


Know Your Enemy

by nanuk_dain



Category: NUMA Files - Clive Cussler
Genre: Action/Adventure, Book: Kurt Austin series - Fire Ice, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanuk_dain/pseuds/nanuk_dain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their strange relationship had been building slowly over seventeen years, but once Kurt Austin and Viktor Petrov met in person, things went to hell in no time at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Your Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> **1)** So I stumbled across this Clive Cussler book (Fire Ice) of a series I hadn't read so far (the Kurt Austin series), and bang!, I fell in love with Kurt Austin and his Russian counterpart Viktor Petrov. They were so incredibly slashy in the book that I couldn't resist the temptation, and this is the result of my Muse's twisted ideas.  
>  **2)** I took the time- and storyline of the book and inserted something here and there, so it might be a good idea to know the book – I'm not retelling the whole thing, I work with moments. But those who know me are already familiar with the concept, I'm sure ^_^  
>  **3)** The title is something Ivan says to Austin at their first face-to-face meeting - in my opinion, there's more than one way to get to know your enemy... ^____^  
>  **4)** Some sentences/passages, especially the direct speech of some dialogues between Ivan and Austin, are taken directly from the book because I wanted to stay very close to canon. First I had them marked, but it really destroyed the flow of the story, so I hope you'll forgive me for not marking them. Funny thing is, so much of what Cussler wrote is already slashy in itself and didn't need much tweaking... XD  
>  **5)** This fic is dedicated to my dear Callajoy! I hope you enjoy it, hon! *hugs*

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_**/ Gulf of Oman, 1985 /** _

"What's your name, by the way? I like to know who I'm dealing with."

"You may call me Ivan."

He cursed himself, silently but fiercely. He couldn't say what had made him give the American his true name, the one he remembered his mother using. He'd been 'Viktor Petrov' for so long that he hadn't even been sure he remembered that other name. The one he didn't have anymore, not since he'd been taken to Moscow to become a proud member of the Soviet Union. 

He caught himself, regaining his composure. It didn't matter. He would never meet this strange American again, anyway. Ivan ended the radio contact as soon as they'd come to an agreement, pushing aside the churning in his stomach at his stupid, honest words. Then he did what he'd come for, salvaged the stolen nuclear weapons off the sunken Iranian container ship and made sure there was no evidence left that the theft had ever taken place. When his ship left, they passed by the _USS Talon_ and Ivan found himself standing on deck, looking at the American vessel through binoculars. He wasn't really surprised to see a man watching him in return from the deck of the _Talon_ , somehow he had known that the arrogant American - _John Doe_ , Ivan thought with a snort - would be there. 

After a moment, the tall, broad-shouldered man with the stunningly steel-grey hair lowered his binoculars and waved at Ivan, a wide grin on his face. Ivan snarled and didn't return the gesture. There was just something about the American that made his skin prickle, and not in a good way. He was glad that he would never see him again. 

He didn't know it then, but that was how it all began - with a name. 

 

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_**/ Persian Gulf, 1986 /** _

It was close. Of course it was, that had been Ivan's intention. He'd ordered the helmsman to go straight for the American vessel, and to shear off only at the very last moment. He wanted them to see his heavily armed men on board to establish his willingness to use force. He wouldn't give up that plane wreck.

They had just passed the American vessel when the radio came alive and a voice said in heavily accented Russian, " _USS Talon_ to unknown Soviet frigate. Where the heck did you learn how to drive?"

Ivan closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his jaw and taking a deep breath to reign in his anger. He would recognise that voice and its owner's wisecracking attitude everywhere. Of course _John Doe_ \- or whatever his name was - was here. Really, it shouldn't have surprised him. The American had a knack for finding trouble. 

"Soviet frigate to _USS Talon_." Ivan replied in English once he'd regained his composure. "You are to leave these waters immediately."

There was silence for a moment, then the voice was back, sounding amused. "Ivan, nice to hear from you again. But I have to tell you, you really need to improve your driving skills or you'll get a traffic ticket."

Ivan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay clam. That arrogant American and his flippant attitude drove him up the walls, just like it had done at their first encounter. "Next time we might not shear off."

"Well, then we can continue this discussion at the bottom of the sea, because we won't shear off either." the American replied, steel in his voice under the flippant tone. "You know, Ivan, this could become quite a dangerous game of chicken."

"Let's see who gives first." Ivan growled and cut the contact. If he ever met that arrogant American in person, he would punch him in the face. 

When a ship carrying the Somalian flag arrived later that day to claim the wreck of their plane, Ivan couldn't decide whether he was relieved or annoyed. He had really wanted to see how far the American was willing to go, or how far he would push Ivan. It was a contest of their strength of will, their private little battle, and it annoyed Ivan that he wouldn't have the chance to find out who was stronger.

Once the wreck was firmly in Somalian hands, Ivan gave the order to leave. The radar told him that the _USS Talon_ had also begun to retreat. A few minutes into the journey, the radio crackled, then the familiar voice of the American came out of the speakers.

"So long, Ivan. 'Til we meet again."

"You better hope that won't happen." Ivan said with chilling directness. "Neither of us will be happy with the outcome."

How true.

 

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_**/ Barents Sea, 1987 /** _

"Soviet research ship to _USS Talon_. You have breached into in Soviet waters without permission. Stop your engine and prepare to be boarded."

He recognised the voice immediately. The faint Russian accent under the American English one, the dark tone, the commanding words. It had been eight months since their last encounter. Really, how high were the chances of coming across the same person over and over again in a job like his? 

Kurt stared at the radio for a moment before he replied. "Ivan, is that _you_?" 

Maybe it was something like magnetism. There was no reason for them to meet again and again, yet they did, and it was entirely unintentional. There were hundreds of agents out there, on both sides, yet it was always _Ivan_ he crossed paths with. It seemed to happen too often to be coincidence. 

And 'magnetism' sounded better than 'destiny'. He'd never believed in that anyway. 

"Nice to hear your voice again." Kurt continued and was surprised to find that he meant it. It was almost a pity that the mission was over and that they would be in international waters in three minutes. He would have enjoyed another sparring with the Russian. It was just too much fun to provoke him. 

Ivan ignored his friendly chatter, but Kurt had expected no less. Really, the Russian needed to ease up, he was way too serious. "Prepare to be boarded or your ship will be sunk." 

Kurt couldn't help laughing. Maybe they couldn't spar, but they could still bicker - at least until the _Talon_ had left Soviet waters. "Really, Ivan, you should know me better than that by now."

"I do." There was the unmistakable sound of a chuckle coming over the line. "But it was worth a try before we shoot you out of existence."

"Ahhh, no reason to get aggressive." Kurt teased. Oh yes, bickering was fun. 

"This is your last warning. Aircraft will be overhead in five minutes, and your ship will be destroyed if you don't stop." The seriousness was back in the Russian's voice.

Kurt just grinned, taking intense pleasure in his triumph. "Sorry, Ivan, we're in international waters in _three_ minutes, so I'd say you've passed your chance."

"We still have your submarine and its contents, Mr. Doe." It seemed Ivan wasn't going to give in that easily. "Our scientists will have a field day dissecting your top-secret equipment. "

"I wouldn't get near that boat if I were you. It's heavily mined." Kurt said with sudden soberness. Of course he had expected the Soviets to try to get their hands on the sub, which was exactly why it would self-destruct. He had just never expect anybody to try to get to it before it could explode, especially not somebody he knew.

"Now who's bluffing, Mr. Doe?" Ivan's voice came over the speaker, heavy with sarcasm. 

Kurt gritted his teeth. He knew there was nothing he could say to make the Russian believe him, but he had to try anyway. "I'm dead serious, Ivan. The sub carried two hundred pounds of HBX explosives in case something like this happened."

Ivan's snort was audible over the radio. "Why would you care if I were killed?"

Yeah, why did he care? Kurt had no answer to that, he just knew that he didn't want Ivan to die.

"Look, Ivan, the Cold War's not going to last forever. Someday we'll bump into each other in a bar and you'll buy me a Stolichnaya martini." Kurt stopped, then he decided to make one last attempt to get the Russian to see reason. "No joke. This thing will self-destruct in about twenty minutes. I set the timer myself."

The reply was just what he'd expected. "You're lying."

"People like us don't lie to each other, old pal."

Ivan just laughed."You've seen too many episodes of Mission Impossible, _old pal_."

Then the line went dead. Kurt stared at the radio in his hand with a deep frown, then he sighed. He just knew that the Russian would set out for the sub, and there was nothing else Kurt could do to keep him away from it. The matter was out of his hands.

About a week later, he heard about Ivan's bad condition. Kurt had kept his ears open to rumours, had made a point of finding out about any casualties in the course of his encounter with the Soviet survey ship and subsequent explosion of the sub. 

The reports said that just one man had been injured. A guy named Viktor Petrov who Kurt instinctively knew was his Ivan. It was reported that he'd tried to access the sub with a minisub, but the explosion had taken place before he had actually reached the American vessel. Ivan was reported to have been badly wounded when his minisub had been catapulted to the surface, taking heavy damage in the process. Kurt heard that his left leg was mangled, that he'd sustained several cracked and broken ribs, and that his face was supposed to have been injured. When Kurt got the information, Ivan had just come out of coma a few days ago. 

For a moment, Kurt had felt sick at the knowledge that it had been him who had almost killed Ivan. Then he reminded himself that he'd done everything he could to prevent Ivan from going near that sub. There was nothing else he could have done, the Russian was responsible for his own actions. All that mattered was that Ivan was alive so that they could continue their strange sparring matches. He never doubted for a moment that the fierce Russian would get back to his feet, no matter how much work it might take.

Kurt grinned. He had to find out the hospital where Ivan was stationed so that he could send him flowers and a get-well-soon card.

 

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_**/ Moscow, Russia, 2002 /** _

Kurt Austin. He was back. 

Again.

Ivan stared at the little card he'd taken from the thick file labelled _'Austin, Kurt'_. The card was yellowed by age, the corners rounded and ripped by use, but the letters were still clearly visible. _'Sorry you got nailed, Ivan. Can't say I didn't warn you. Get well soon so we can have that drink. First round's on me. John Doe.'_

He still couldn't quite believe that the arrogant American - Kurt Austin, his John Doe - had actually sent him a bouquet of carnations back in 1987. Red, blue and white ones on top of that. 

Ivan leaned back in his chair, frowning, his gaze focussed on nothing in particular. In his mind's eye, he could clearly see the second bouquet that had reached him two weeks after the first. This time it was a simple red rose with another card attached. This one, Ivan had never added to the file. He'd burnt it the same day he'd got it, aware of the dangers it could mean to him. He didn't need the card to remember its content, though. He'd memorised the words the first and only time he'd read them, just like the slightly messy handwriting they'd been written in. 

_'You really need to get better soon, Vanya. This game is no fun without you. John Doe.'_

At the time, being referred to by such a personal nickname by the pertinent American had made him angry. He still remembered the heat he'd felt in his cheeks, the quickened beat of his heart. Even back then, he'd known it hadn't been just anger that had made him blush. 

And now Austin was back. Trespassing into sovereign Russian territory.

Ivan raised his hand, his finger passing over the scar on his right cheek in an almost unconscious gesture. It was a remainder of their last encounter, a reminder of Austin that he had carried for the past fifteen years. Ivan smirked and reached for the phone. 

"Yes, sir," answered a trusted assistant who occupied an office in another part of the agricultural building.

"I want a plane ready to leave for Istanbul in one hour." Ivan ordered curtly.

It was time to meet Kurt Austin face to face.

 

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_**/ Istanbul, Turkey, 2002 /** _

Kurt blinked against the bright spotlight that was pointed at his face and pulled on the duct tape that bound his hands together, trying to determine how well the thugs had done their job. Quite well, he found out to his dismay. 

Suddenly a dark voice addressed him, coming from somewhere behind the spotlight. "Welcome, Mr. Austin, Thank you for coming."

"It was an invitation I couldn't resist." Kurt stopped struggling and shrugged the best he could with his hands bound behind his back. That voice...

The chuckle that followed his response made goosebumps pass over his skin. "The years haven't changed you have they?"

That voice, he knew that voice. It prickled on his skin, made a shiver pass down his spine, and Kurt _knew_ he should recognise it. "Do I know you?"

"I'm hurt that you don't remember me. I wanted to thank you in person for the lovely bouquet you sent to hasten my convalescence. I believe you signed the card with the name of John Doe."

For a moment, Kurt felt stunned by surprise, and he suddenly knew exactly why that voice had been so familiar. He had heard it often enough over the ship's radio. For a split, insane second, he couldn't help wondering if the Russian referred to the first or the second bouquet, but he knew now was not the right time to ask.

"I'll be damned!" Kurt couldn't help grinning. "Ivan!" 

The spotlight was switched off, and the sudden darkness blinded Kurt for a few seconds. He heard slow, measured footsteps approach before a small portable table lamp came on and illuminated the scene. Kurt looked at the man who he knew was Ivan, although he had never seen his face before. Even at their very first encounter, when their ships had passed each other and they'd both been standing outside to watch, it had been hidden behind the binoculars.

Meeting Ivan, for real, face to face, wasn't something Kurt had ever expected to happen. He had almost forgot about the Russian over the years. Almost. He may have encountered him only three times, where he'd mostly communicated with him via radio, but there was _something_ about him that put Kurt on edge. He didn't know what it was, couldn't put it in words, but it was there nevertheless. It was one of the reasons why he'd been unable to stop provoking the Russian. It was just too much fun to rile him up, but that wasn't all there was.

Now Kurt took his time inspecting at Ivan, savouring the moment when he could finally satisfy his curiosity about what the Russian looked like. At the first glance, he seemed to be one of those men you saw and immediately forgot. He was in his forties and just about an inch smaller than Kurt, wearing a baggy grey suit over an ill-fitting white shirt. His hair was of a natural salt-and-pepper colour and it was slightly too long call it a decent haircut. On his strong nose sat simple wire-framed glasses that gave him the serious air of a humourless bureaucrat. 

Yet Kurt could make out the broad shoulders and the slim hips well hidden under the shapeless suit. There was no softness around him that came with too much time spent in an office chair, to the contrary, Kurt was sure he was quite athletic. The only thing that immediately stood out about him was the long scar that ran from his right temple down to his jawline over his high cheekbone. And, even if it was a bit less obvious, the slight limp to his gait. Kurt knew immediately where he'd got both.

But what really gave Ivan away were his eyes. They were of a greyish blue that reminded Kurt of slate, and they sparkled with intelligence, strength and determination. Kurt couldn't help wondering how Ivan had managed to stay in his obviously powerful position for so long with eyes like that. The Russians working in the government had to be blind not to see through his façade of the simple, obedient bureaucrat. 

"Don't be alarmed, Mr. Austin." Ivan's dark voice penetrated Kurt's thoughts, pulling him back into the here and now. "I'm not the Phantom of the Opera."

Obviously his thorough inspection hadn't gone unnoticed. Kurt didn't mind, he openly admitted that he'd been curious about the Russian ever since their first encounter. He was still surprised that Ivan had come out of their 'explosive' last meeting alive. Not that he was complaining.

"Sorry about the booby trap, Ivan. Can't say I didn't warn you to stay clear." Kurt said and found that he meant it. 

"No apology necessary. Simply a misfortune of war." Ivan's gaze was focussed on Kurt, intense yet pensive, and it made Kurt's skin prickle in a way he didn't want to think about right now. "I've wondered something for a long time. Suppose our places had been reversed. Would you have listened to a warning from me?" 

It wasn't a simple question to answer, but it was something Kurt had thought about himself. "I might have assumed, like you, that the warning was a diversion." Kurt shrugged as well as he could while being duct-taped to a chair, and firmly held the Russian's gaze. "I'd like to think discretion would have won over valour, but I can't say for sure. It was a long time ago." 

"Yes, it was a long time ago." Ivan said quietly, a smile coming to his lips that seemed sad and longing. It transformed his face, made him look... _beautiful_. And now that wasn't a word Kurt had ever expected to associate with this fiery, proud Russian.

Oh shit, Kurt thought and just stared, trying not to be too obvious about it. He had an inkling he was headed towards deep trouble.

 

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_"I might have assumed, like you, that the warning was a diversion. I'd like to think discretion would have won over valour, but I can't say for sure. It was a long time ago."_

The words rang in Ivan's head even after they had been spoken. He just looked down at where Kurt Austin was sitting in front of him, tied to the chair by generous amounts of duct tape.

Honesty. It was one of the traits Ivan had always respected about this man, as annoying as he was otherwise. Not once had Austin lied to him, and the one time Ivan had been sure he had, a submarine exploding precisely on time had proven him wrong. 

He thought about it for a moment, then he decided he owed it to Austin to give him some honesty in return. "Obviously, discretion did not rule over my youthful impatience. I was impetuous in those days. Don't worry, I bear you no animosity for the fruits of my own foolishness. I would have killed you long ago if I thought you were entirely to blame." 

Austin smirked. "I would have put up a fight."

"I would have counted on that." Ivan couldn't help chuckling, it was just such an Austin thing to say. It was strange how he knew this man without ever having met him in person, face to face. He couldn't help studying Kurt Austin the same way he had caught Austin studying him, and they were both motivated by the same thing: Curiosity. For years Ivan had wondered what the American would look like, be like. Of course he had multiple pictures in his thick dossier about the man, but it wasn't the same as seeing somebody standing right in front of you, experiencing them in action. 

Austin didn't disappoint him. His cheeky attitude hadn't worn off over the years and his fascinating, deep-blue eyes were sparkling with humour and mischief when he was teasing Ivan. It was one of the things that took Ivan by surprise: That Austin actually _teased_ him in a good-natured way, not insulting or provoking him, and that Ivan felt comfortable returning it in the same manner. It was like a game they had established during their first radio contact and had kept up til now. At the beginning, Ivan hadn't returned it, but now he anticipated the slightly sarcastic humour of the American and took pleasure in returning it in kind. 

Ivan couldn't help his eyes flickering over Austin's form. Even tied to the chair, his athletic strength was obvious. He was as broad in built as Ivan remembered from that one time he had seen Austin through his binoculars. From the dossier, Ivan knew that Austin was about an inch taller than him and almost a month older than he himself was. The prematurely steel-grey hair still threw Ivan a bit, since Austin didn't look old otherwise. There were laugh-lines around his eyes and mouth, showing his generally easy-going personality, but they didn't make him look older than he was. 

One look at Austin told him that the American had noticed that Ivan had been staring at him. Ivan cleared his throat, realising the pause had stretched too long, and continued talking. "As I said, _c'est la guerre_. In a sense you are as disfigured as I am, only you can't see the scars that cover your heart. The war has made hard men of both of us."

It was more than Ivan had wanted to say, but he had never been a man who took his words back, so he just stood by it. He saw Austin look at him with an expression in his eyes that Ivan couldn't quite define, but the moment was over as soon as it had begun, and Austin was back to his flippant self. "I recall hearing that the Cold War is over. I have a suggestion. Why not ask your friends to give us a lift to the bar at the Palace Hotel? We can talk about old times over a drink."

"In time, Mr. Austin. In time." It was an offer Ivan was planning to take up on sometime in the future, if only to mess with Austin. But now was not the time for pleasantries, now was the time for serious business. "We have a matter of grave importance to discuss."

It took some time to get Austin up to date and give him all the information he needed to know in order to understand the situation at hand. The signs were bad for Russia's future, and Ivan intended to do everything in his power to prevent the worst. Austin didn't know it yet, but he played a crucial part in Ivan's plan, and now was the time to set it in motion. Ivan was well aware that he couldn't keep the American from meddling apart of physically incapacitating him, which Ivan was surprised to find he wasn't willing to do. So he had decided that he would instead include Austin in his plan, let him play a role only he could fulfil. 

Threatening to treat Austin as an enemy of the Russian people and act accordingly - a thinly veiled threat to kill him - was easy to do, because Ivan knew it would push Austin's buttons and make him do exactly what he'd been told _not_ to do.

Austin didn't react to it, just pretended not to be bothered at all and pointedly checked his watch while announcing that he had a date waiting for him. Ivan gritted his teeth for a moment, then he ordered his men to get him back to where they'd picked him up. The men guarding Austin pulled him to his feet and attempted to herd him toward the door. He stood his ground and said, "Nice seeing you again, Ivan. Sorry for past encounters."

"What's past is past. It's the future that we should be both concerned about." Ivan meant it. His hand came up to touch the scar on his right cheek in an almost unconscious gesture. "You know, Mr. Austin, you taught me a valuable lesson."

Austin watched him attentively, his expression seemingly relaxed. "Which is?"

Ivan held his gaze. "Know your enemy."

After a second, Austin smirked, and Ivan felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine at the expression in the American's eyes, an expression he couldn't quite define. It was gone when one of Ivan's men took hold of Austin's shoulder and hustled him towards the elevator. Soon the doors opened and Austin was pushed inside, the car descended and the American disappeared out of Ivan's sight.

Ivan just watched, the cigarette he had lit earlier now forgotten in his hand. The trap for his American was set. He was aware that he was playing with fire, but he knew Austin, the man would never leave it alone - especially if that was what he'd been told to do. Now all Ivan had to do was watch him and be ready to join the action when the time came.

He didn't doubt even for a second that Austin would head right where he'd been told not to go. Just as planned.

 

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Kurt returned to the _Argo_ once his Russian 'friends' had kicked him out of the car next to the harbour, right where they'd picked him up. As soon as he was back on board, he called Kaela's hotel to see if he had any chance to make it up to her that he'd basically stood her up - even if it hadn't been his fault. He entirely blamed Ivan for ruining his date. After finding out that Kaela's patience had limits and that one hour of waiting for her date was said limit, Kurt decided to try to call her in the morning and apologise.

He felt too restless to go to sleep, and it was too early for bed anyway, so Kurt went on the deck and began walking towards the bow. Once he arrived, he stopped with a frustrated sigh, turned on his hells and paced the same way back. He just couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with Ivan. He felt this incredible urge to do something about the things he'd learned. He certainly wouldn't sit back and count fish while there was a power-hungry rich oil magnate and a mad monk threatening the US. He wouldn't wait for things to turn sour. It was his country they were talking about, after all, and he planned to do whatever he could to protect it. The best way to get Austin to do something was to tell him he couldn't do it.

After calling Joe and making sure that he came to Istanbul as quickly as possible, Kurt returned to the deck of the _Argo_ and continued his pacing. He had a plan, he knew what he was going to do next, and normally that was enough to ease his restlessness. 

It didn't work this time, though. His thoughts were still circling around the unexpected get-together with Ivan. All right, maybe they focussed more on the man himself than what had been the subject of their meeting. There was just something about Ivan that had Kurt on the edge, still, even after all those years. He could tell that the man was dangerous, never mind the injuries he had sustained all those years ago in the Barents Sea. What surprised Kurt was the realisation that this dangerous vibe was what attracted him to the Russian, made him want to poke and provoke and tease him whenever he got the chance. It was fun, a game with unknown risks, and he enjoyed every second of it. 

All right, so he knew that wasn't a healthy attitude. He couldn't help it, though. Meeting Ivan face to face had made it even worse. Now his memory provided facial expressions to go with the voice he had known for so long, and he remembered only too well what Ivan looked like when he was teasing Kurt in return. The way his mouth twisted in a mischievous smirk, a little lopsided, and how his grey-blue eyes sparkled with intelligence when he delivered his blow. 

Frustrated, Kurt groaned and ran a hand over his face. Why was he thinking about Ivan anyway? It wasn't like he was going to see the man again. They weren't exactly on the same side. Not on opposite sides, either, but something strange inbetween. After pacing the deck for an hour, Kurt decided to call it a night. His brooding was pointless anyway, it would bring him no further revelation. 

That night, Kurt didn't sleep well. When he woke early in the morning, quite a some time before sunrise, he was hard and sweaty and his mind was filled with images and sensations of Ivan's strong body against his, of broad hands that touched him literally everywhere, and rough, deep kisses that left him breathless. And more, but he wasn't willing to put those thoughts in words. 

For a moment, Kurt lay on his narrow bunk, staring at the ceiling, his breath coming in pants. He was almost painfully hard, his erection pressing against the confines of his boxer-briefs, and he was hard pressed to ignore it. He even tried, but after a few minutes that did nothing to ease his arousal, he gave in and wrapped his right hand around his hardness. It felt good to allow the pleasure, and he moved his hand the way he liked it, the pressure of his fingers maybe a tad stronger than usual, just like he imagined Ivan would do it. 

Then he thought of Ivan's intense eyes, imagined what he'd look like under his baggy grey suit, and Kurt felt heat shoot through his entire body in a way physical touch to could never elicit. He came with the image of Ivan's face contorted in the pleasure of orgasm in his mind's eye and a barely suppressed moan on his own lips. Hot wetness spilled over his fingers and sullied his underwear. Kurt lay there with his eyes closed for a moment, regaining his breath, then he raised his head and looked at the mess he'd made of his boxer-briefs. 

He groaned and let his head fall back against his bunk. He was so screwed. 'Trouble' didn't even begin to cover it.

 

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_**/ The Black Sea, Russian coast, 2002 /** _

Joe wasn't stupid. Really, he had many faults, but stupidity wasn't one of them. So what did Kurt think he was doing, pretending that there wasn't anything going on between him and that Russian? Joe could _see_ it, it was that obvious.

Okay, let's start at the moment his suspicion was raised. Because hey, he could pinpoint it _to the second_.

It was like a bad movie, him and Kurt standing on that improvised soccer field with their tiny guns against a horde of insane Cossacks on horseback, trying to prevent them from killing Kaela and her crew. And then, boom, in came the Russian with his men, guns blazing, the help coming at the really very last moment. The Cossacks fell like weed under the Russians' fire and their attack was stopped quickly.

But that wasn't it, that wasn't the moment Joe had _known_ something was going on. It was when one of the black-clad men had broken away, walking towards them with a slight limp. When Joe had aimed his gun at him - a completely reasonable thing to do given the circumstances - Kurt had pushed the barrel down with gentle force. His eyes had been focussed on the stranger who he seemed to recognise despite his attire _and_ the distance that kept Joe from even making out a face. There had been a grin on Kurt's face, lopsided and honest in its spontaneity, and _that_ was when Joe had known. 

Well, not that he lacked other indices. There were plenty once the man had come close enough to talk without having to shout. And that was how Joe had come here, standing in the middle of nowhere on the Russian Black Sea coast, studying the interaction between Kurt and the Russian, Viktor Petrov. Or Ivan, which was what Kurt kept calling him, and Joe hadn't been able yet to find out which name was actually the Russian's real one. 

"Hello, Mr. Austin. A pleasure to see you again." The man had greeted them with a smirk, and Joe had been unable not to notice the huge scar that ran down his right cheek. It stood out vividly against the red of his sunburned face. There was a gleam in his eyes that Joe couldn't quite pinpoint, but it for lack of a better word, he decided to call it 'teasing'. 

"Hello, Ivan. You have no idea _how_ nice it is to see you." Kurt replied with a grin and turned his whole body towards the man. Now, Joe had always excelled at reading body language, and this was as obvious as you could be. Intense eye-contact, shared smirks and hidden smiles, teasing, bickering, they did it all. They were flirting. Outright flirting, and Joe wasn't entirely sure they were even aware of it.

"I think I do," the Russian said with a laugh, and hey there, teasing again. He continued with a smirk tugging on his lips, and Joe just knew there was a double meaning to his next words. "You and your friend must join me for a shot of vodka. We can talk about old times and new beginnings." 

Kurt couldn't hold back a short, spontaneous laugh. Joe just looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Wow, this was really interesting to watch. A pity he couldn't understand the double meaning because he was lacking information. He had to remedy that as soon as he got the chance to talk to Kurt alone.

"Come on, I have to show you something." Kurt said, still smirking, and motioned for the Russian to follow him into the sub pen. Joe wasn't too eager to go back in the stinky hole and made his excuses by saying that he would take care of the TV people and check on the _NR-1_ crew. He had gathered enough intelligence on Kurt and his Russian for now, Kurt could very well give Ivan the nickel tour without him coming along.

Joe watched them head over to the entrance and grinned. He was going to have a word with Kurt to find out what this was all about. He knew he was sometimes too curious for his own good, but this time, there was no way he would keep his nose out of it. Kurt wooing a Russian agent - a male one on top of that, not his usual prey - was enough to make sure Joe would keep an eye on things.

It was just too interesting to watch.

 

****

***

Ivan couldn't believe his eyes when he looked around the shrine that Razov and his mad monk had built to honour the Tsar and his family. It was almost oppressing in its opulence and frightening in the new light it shed on Ivan's suspicions concerning the scale of the threat Razov and Boris posed to Russia, maybe even the world.

"You have made quite a find." Ivan said after inspecting the chanting chair.

"Then all is forgiven for coming in with six-guns blazing?" Austin looked at him with a lopsided grin.

Ivan felt it go straight to his groin and he forced himself to ignore the inappropriate reaction. "On the contrary. It's exactly what I wanted to happen." 

"You're a strange man, Ivan." Austin still wore that smile on his lips, slowly shaking his head while watching him move through the chamber. 

Ivan felt goosebumps spread over his skin beneath his combat uniform and tried to ignore them. "That may be, but in this case my actions were purely logical. Don't forget that I have a dossier this thick on you, as well as my personal experience with your methods. I knew warning you off would be the surest way to bring you here."

"Why be so Machiavellian? Why not simply invite me to your party? I'm an agreeable guy."

Ivan raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "You're not naive in these matters. If I had said back in Istanbul that I needed your help, what would you have replied, given the stormy history of our relationship?"

"I don't know." Austin gave a shrug, never breaking eye-contact.

"I do. You might have regarded it as a trap, an ingenious way of getting back at you for this souvenir of past encounters." Ivan let his hand pass over the scar on his cheek, noting how Austin's eyes followed the path of his fingers. "But that is not the case. "

It was time to bring Austin on board of his operation. He needed all the help he could get, and the American was not only determined and strong, he was also backed by important people with the powerful reach of a long arm. He could be of more help to Ivan than anybody else he could think of. To be honest, right now he felt as if Austin was the only possible ally he could trust.

Ivan explained his reasoning, then he told Austin everything he knew about Razov and his mad monk and about his suspicion that both of their countries had been infiltrated by spies loyal to Razov. While outlining the information he had gathered so far, Ivan made sure to show Austin how much he knew about the inner workings of NUMA. He needed Austin to understand that Ivan was not only serious in his request, but also well-informed about who he was asking.

"One thing is certain: They both must be stopped," Ivan said with total conviction, looking Austin in the eye and willing him to see that he was serious. "And you must help me."

Austin stared back, scepticism plain in his eyes. "I'll think about it, Ivan. Right now I need some fresh air."

Without thinking about it, Ivan reached out and took hold of Austin's arm, maybe to keep him from leaving, maybe to underline his point, he couldn't tell. But the moment he touched him, it was as if something shifted, and Ivan could see the same realisation in Kurt's eyes. It took his breath away for an incredibly long second, then Ivan regained his composure and forced his mind back on track. "Maybe your own countrymen can persuade you. You remember the words of the great American patriot-philosopher Thomas Paine. He said he was not defending a few acres of ground, but a cause."

It took a moment before Kurt replied, and his voice was strangely low as he did. "What is _your_ cause, Ivan?"

"Perhaps it's the same as yours." Ivan replied equally quiet, holding Kurt's intense gaze. He knew they weren't talking about politics or philosophy anymore. The goosebumps were back, his skin crawling with them at the sound of his name in Kurt's rough, low voice. His hand was still firmly wrapped around Kurt's arm and he could feel the hard muscles under the tips of his fingers. His throat felt dry and he licked his lips in an unconscious gesture. Oh my, he had known Kurt was handsome, but right now, he looked so incredibly _tempting_ that Ivan knew he was on the verge of doing something immensely stupid.

Ivan forced his thoughts back into more appropriate channels, away from Kurt's broad shoulders or his slim hips that were so nicely accented by his tight wet suit. He wanted to peel his American out of the suit and see what lay underneath, find out how the skin would feel under his fingertips, which noises he could draw from Kurt...

 _Austin_. It was _Austin_ , not _Kurt_. Ivan chided himself, repeating the words in his mind like a mantra. He knew he should let go of his arm, bring some distance between them, but he found himself unable to move. Ivan saw the American's Adam's apple bob, then Kurt blinked, looking away only for a fraction of a second, and the spell was broken. 

"Don't take that the wrong way, but I can't see you waving the flag for motherhood, apple pie and the American way." Kurt said, his voice sounding somehow pressed rather than teasing, and just like that they were back on safe ground.

Ivan decided to leave it that way and forced himself to let go of his grip on the American's arm. "I did my share of waving the hammer and sickle as a Young Pioneer marching in the May Day parades. There are deeper issues here. Don't let our past get in the way. Judge me by the present, so that both our countries will have a future."

Kurt looked at him for a long moment, then he smirked. "Guess we're stuck with each other, whether we like it or not." 

"Then you will work with me?" Ivan felt warmth fill him, and he distantly recognised it as hope.

"I can't speak for NUMA, but I'll do what I can." Kurt agreed and gave a nod before he touched his hand to Ivan's arm for a fleeting moment. "C'mon, partner, I've got something else that will interest you."

 _Partner_. The warmth inside him intensified and made Ivan feel good in a way he had never experienced before. He felt almost euphoric knowing that he had Kurt on his side now, that they would combine their efforts instead of working against each other. Now they stood a chance against the forces at work here.

Ivan followed Kurt through the labyrinth of tunnels that composed the base, imagining that he could still feel the touch of the American's hand on his arm. He wasn't really surprised to find an India class submarine in the sub pen, he had known for ages that Russian military equipment was sold off to the highest bidder. That the lease for the territory of the base was held by an enterprise that was a straw company for Atman Industries only cemented his suspicions.

When they finally left the tunnels of the sub base, Ivan excused himself to check up on the work of his men. They had done an impeccable job of burying the dead Cossacks out of sight in the woods, but he hadn't expected any less. They were the best, or they would never have made it on his team. When Ivan crossed the soccer field that was now clear of dead bodies, he saw the woman from the television show head straight towards him. He didn't want to talk to her, but the determined expression in her eyes told him that she would try nevertheless. 

She approached with a gentle swing to her gait and stopped right in front of him. She put one hand on her hip and began to talk about the sub base and how great it would be if she could just shoot a few short sequences inside the tunnels. Ivan felt her hand on his chest, teasingly passing over his combat jacket, and he was tempted to shrug off her touch. Then he decided that it would probably rattle her way more if he didn't react at all.

She smiled at him and Ivan looked down, studying her. From an objective point of view, she was beautiful with her long dark hair, her tanned skin and her perfect figure. She knew it, too, and tried to use it to get what she wanted. Ivan wasn't impressed. She wasn't attractive for him, and he would certainly not let her and her TV crew into the sub pen just because she was nice to look at.

So he let her talk and then just laconically told her to get off Russian territory. He even went so far as to suggest that she should have Kurt organise transport for her since her chopper had been shot out of the sky over sovereign territory that it had no business being in anyway. Ivan's gaze followed her when she stalked across the field with an angry set to her shoulders, heading back to where Kurt was watching them, a barely hidden smirk on his face. He had known all along that Ivan would give her the cold shoulder and had let the Russian tell her off instead of doing it himself.

'You are a sneaky bastard, Kurt', Ivan though while staring at his annoying American. Then he growled, more at himself than anybody else.

It was _Austin_ , not _Kurt_.

 

****

**

* * *

**

****

 

_**/ Washington, D.C, USA, 2002 /** _

Kurt leaned back in his leather chair, the bottle of ale pleasantly cool in his hand, the soft sound of the water splashing gently against the boathouse calming in its familiarity. It felt surreal to be home, too much had happened in the past week. He took a deep breath, letting it out with a long sigh and ran a hand over his face. What had happened on the _Sea Hunter_ was still fresh in his memory, and he couldn't let go of the anger he felt when he thought about the pointless loss of life.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt noticed the blinking red light on his answering machine, telling him that there were new messages for him. He got up and listened to Joe's voice informing him that he was back from England. With the phone in his hand, Kurt returned to his comfortable leather chair and dialled Joe's number, which he knew by heart. 

Joe answered immediately and Kurt lost himself in the discussion of the newest events. It felt good to be active, it made sure that he couldn't think about the _Sea Hunter_. Joe told him about his visit at Lord Dobson's house and the things he had learned from the journal of Major Peter Yakelev, the Captain of the Tsar' Royal Cossacks Guard in 1917. It was interesting, to say the least, and the news that the Grand Duchess Maria had actually survived was quite a revelation. Kurt listened with surprised awe and when Joe had finished, he told him about Leroy Jenkins's visit to the NUMA headquarters and his suspicions which resulted in Kurt's and Paul's clandestine visit to the _Atman Explorer_. 

"Not bad." Joe commented when Kurt told him about rescuing the Captain and the pilot of the _NR-1_. "So, have you heard anything from you Russian?"

"Ivan?" Kurt replied, surprised that Joe would ask. "No, not yet."

"You should call him, tell him about the newest findings concerning Atman. Oh and that little tidbit about the Romanov line not actually having died out might interest him."

Kurt frowned. "Why would you want me to call him?"

"Well, I thought you were working together now. International bonding and so." Joe sounded suspiciously casual.

"Joe." Kurt drew out the name, telling his friend without words that he knew that wasn't all.

Joe chuckled. "Oh, you know, it's just so interesting to watch the two of you interact."

"What are you talking about?" Kurt set his beer bottle on the small table next to his chair and sat up straight.

"The teasing, the bickering, the flirting..."

"We're not flirting!" Kurt grumbled back, only to get another chuckle.

"Hmmmm."

Kurt gave it a moment, but Joe didn't say anything else. "What does that mean, 'Hmmmm'?"

"Oh, that's just me expressing my disbelief." The grin in Joe's voice was as obvious to Kurt as if he had seen it.

"You're not trying to play matchmaker, are you?" Kurt frowned, even though he knew Joe couldn't see it.

"Me? Never!" He sounded about as sincere as a kid who had just been caught steeling cookies.

"Hmmmm." Kurt imitated Joe's voice.

"It that you expressing _your_ disbelief in my innocence?"

"That's one way to put it."

"So, I have a few questions about you and your Russian..."

Kurt ignored him and said firmly. "Good night, Joe."

"Pleasant dreams, my friend." Joe replied with a highly amused chuckle. Before Kurt could say anything, Joe had hung up.

Kurt glared at the phone for another second before he got up and put it back in its cradle. He left the den-study to step out on deck and get some fresh air to clear his head. He slowly walked up and down, letting his thoughts run wild, turning over all the things he had learned from Joe and trying to find out how they were connected with the recent events concerning Razov and Atman Industries. 

When he looked at his watch at some point and saw how late it was, he decided to call it a day. He felt the tiredness in his very bones and the steps up to his bed in the turret of his Victorian boathouse were almost more than he could take. He just managed to shrug out of his slacks and his shirt, then he slipped under the covers and was asleep within minutes.

Kurt would never admit it to Joe, but this night, he had indeed very pleasant dreams, all of them involving a certain obstinate Russian.

 

****

**

* * *

**

****

 

_**/ Boston Harbour, USA, 2002 /** _

For a moment Ivan didn't dare to believe his eyes, and he glanced over the rim of his fake glasses as if it would clear his sight. The man, a journalist according to his credentials, had nothing in common with Kurt Austin except for his height. He looked like an overconfident schmuck with his chaotic brown hair, the garish gold chain around his neck and the sunglasses on his prominent nose even though it was night. 

Yet Ivan would have recognised Kurt everywhere, even in this horrendous disguise. He couldn't say how he knew it was Kurt, he just did. Finding the American here on the reception party on the yacht of Mikhail Razov was not as big a surprise as it probably should have been, either. Razov showing up at this very moment in American territory was too good and opportunity for Kurt to ignore. Ivan had spotted him in the company of the annoying TV woman earlier, which explained how he had got access to this rather exclusive event.

In the course of the evening, Ivan made sure to keep an eye on Kurt - _Austin!_ \- and followed him when he left the section of the yacht that was designated to the party. Razov was still in the middle of his speech, the majority of the guests in the audience, which was a good time to wander off unnoticed. Ivan kept his distance, making sure to stay out of sight while never losing his mark. 

He followed Kurt's avoiding techniques with amusement - have a plate in your hand and appear to be drunk and people will let you be, simple but effective. He had to hold back a chuckle when the American was nearly knocked over by Razov's two Russian wolfhounds who had their mind set only on the food on Kurt's plate. Once the dogs' trainer had come to lead the animals away, Kurt dropped his act and disappeared behind the cord that separated off the restricted section of the yacht.

He moved down the deck towards the bow, silent and almost hidden in the dark due to his black clothes, until he stopped by a large vent. He pulled a object out of his pocket and fiddled with it for a few seconds, then he stretched and placed it on the back of the vent and continued his way down the deck. Ivan followed, always careful not to be discovered by either guards of Kurt. No, _Austin_!

Ivan watched how the American stopped besides a lifeboat, only to crouch down and feel around the davit. He was so concentrated on his work that he never heard Ivan's silent footfall behind him. Ivan pulled his gun out, leaving the safety on and not even bothering to put the finger on the trigger. When Kurt was about to get up, he pressed the muzzle of his gun against the small of Kurt's back with a little bit more force that strictly necessary, just to make his point. "You're getting careless in your old age, Kurt Austin. Next time it could be fatal." 

The tension that had entered the American's body as soon as he'd felt the gun against his back eased out of him as quickly as it had come once he heard Ivan's voice. For a moment Ivan was amazed at this obvious yet subconscious sign of trust. He lowered his hand and put his gun away at the same time as Kurt turned around. "I aged at least ten years when you stuck that gun in my ribs, Ivan. A simple hello would have been sufficient to grab my attention."

"Where would have been the fun in that?" Ivan just smirked. "It keeps me in practice. I don't want to lose my edge."

Kurt looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Believe me, your edge is as sharp as ever." 

"Thank you, _tovarich_." Ivan replied with a hinted bow, a teasing smirk on his lips. He had to admit that it felt good that he could actually surprise Kurt and catch him in a situation like this. He found himself bickering with his American before he had even given it any thought, and he was surprised to learn about NUMA's plan to install 'sniffers', as they called them, on the yacht so that they could access Razov's network. It was a good plan, and Ivan was glad that he had chosen to bring Kurt in on this mission. 

It was time to return to the festivities. Ivan knew they were pressing their luck by staying in the restricted area as long as they had. At some point, somebody was bound to see them, and not only would they be in real trouble then, it would also endanger the secret presence of the sniffers. So Ivan suggested that they get back before things could turn ugly, and Kurt just nodded and headed back towards the party. They stuck to the shadows to avoid detection, which worked just fine until a guard came right at them. 

They retreated into the shadows, hiding behind a bollard. Ivan felt his shoulders connect with the wall of the cabin in his back. Kurt was pressed with his back against Ivan's chest so that the tiny sliver of darkness would conceal them both. They were so close that Ivan's nose almost touched the American's neck. When he breathed in, he couldn't help noticing his scent, a mixture of shampoo, cologne, sea and something that was his very own scent. 

Ivan let the air escape his lungs, noticing how the tiny hairs on Kurt's neck moved in the flow of his breath. It was followed by a slight shudder passing through the American's body, quickly stifled, but Ivan had felt it where Kurt was pressed against him. He smirked and breathed out again, bringing his nose even closer to the skin of Kurt's neck. The reaction was the same, even if it was obvious that the American tried to suppress it. 

Interesting, Ivan mused. So he wasn't the only one whose thoughts were headed in an entirely inappropriate direction. 

The guard had walked past them without ever noticing their presence, but it took Kurt a moment longer than necessary to move away. He didn't turn to look at Ivan, just continued his way back to the crowded party as if nothing had happened. Ivan was right by his side, and once they had left the restricted area, they strolled down the deck as if they hadn't done anything forbidden. 

"What are your plans now?" Ivan asked casually, pretending for nearby ears that they were just having a normal conversation, a bit of small talk.

"You didn't see Razov's pet monk, did you?" Kurt turned to look at him, his eyes telling Ivan that whatever beef the American had with Boris, it was serious _and_ it was personal.

"I suspect that Razov prefers to have Boris stay out of sight on public occasions." Ivan replied. "He may or may not be on the ship. We're not likely to see him."

The American nodded slowly, as if in thought, before he remarked, "In that case, maybe I'll spend a few minutes talking to our host."

" _Razov?_ " Ivan couldn't help sounding baffled. Well, no matter the thickness of the dossier he had on Kurt, the man still managed to surprise him. "Do you think it's wise to play your hand here on his territory?"

Kurt shrugged. "Maybe I can get him rattled enough to make a mistake."

Ivan didn't doubt for a moment that if somebody could do that, it was Kurt. The man had a knack for finding the right words to annoy people out of their minds. Ivan deemed it wise to keep that particular thought to himself, though. "I've heard it's not safe to play with rattlesnakes, but do what you wish. I think I'll wander around and enjoy the food and drink as long as I'm here."

"You came alone?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow that suggested that he didn't believe Ivan did.

"I won't be far away if you need me." Ivan said instead of answering the question, a teasing smile on his face. He enjoyed leaving Kurt in the dark because he knew how much it annoyed him. A waiter walked past them and Ivan made use of the opportunity, taking a shot of vodka off his silver tray and downing it while disappearing into the crowd, leaving Kurt standing at the entrance to the salon.

True to his word, Ivan stayed within sight of Kurt. He wondered how the American planned to get close enough to Razov to engage him in a conversation. When he saw the two Russian wolfhounds jerk free of their master's grip, running towards Kurt in a spectacle reminiscent of what he'd observed on deck an hour ago, Ivan could just shake his head in disbelief. Sometimes he wondered if fate liked to play into Kurt's hand. 

Ivan mingled into the crowd that surrounded Russian oil magnate, getting close enough to watched Kurt talking to Razov. Ivan kept a neutral expression on his face although he wanted to roll his eyes. Kurt Austin didn't only attract trouble, he actively made it. There was no doubt that his open attack of Razov was an irrational move with no benefits. Warning the man about them wasn't giving them any advantage, yet Kurt seemed to enjoy every second of riling the man up. 

Now that he wasn't the target of Kurt's attack, Ivan found the whole thing rather amusing to watch. He couldn't help admiring the less than subtle way that Kurt used to provoke Razov into showing his real face, right here in front of the high society and the press. In a way, Ivan understood exactly how Razov felt, because he knew how Kurt could get under your skin. He did it with Ivan every time they crossed paths, had done it since the very first time he'd spoken to the faceless voice on the radio seventeen years ago. There was something to Kurt that got to you, and Ivan still hadn't found out what exactly it was. 

Of course things turned sour pretty quickly. When Kurt made his excuses to leave the yacht - or rather Razov officially throwing him out - Ivan saw the little gesture the oil magnate gave to some of his men standing close by. It was obvious that he would not allow Kurt to leave the yacht alive. 

Ivan watched Kurt while keeping his eyes on the guards moving about the ship. The American made quick contact with the TV woman, then they parted ways. Kurt seemed to notice that there would be no escaping via the one of the launches that had brought the people aboard, since there were guards already posted at the stairway. 

When Kurt beat his strategic retreat, Ivan followed him unobtrusively. He had an inkling that his Plan B to get off the ship would come in handy very soon. Kurt didn't seem to have planned ahead far enough to establish more than one escape route in case his first would be blocked. Before the American could head into a trap, Ivan intercepted him and pulled him aside to lead him to the powerboat he had arranged for at starboard. 

 

****

***

It was out of the corner of the eye that Kurt saw Ivan go down. He forced himself to stay at the helm of the powerboat and continue their high-speed escape, although his instincts screamed for him to check on the Russian. But if Rozov's men got hold of them, they would both be dead, so stopping was not an option.

It didn't help for long, though. As soon as they'd reached the open harbour, the guards resumed fire, hitting the powerboat neatly in the hull right at the waterline. Large chunks of fibreglass were ripped out of the hulk, causing water to flood the boat. It suddenly dove down nose first, giving Kurt no time to react before they were under the surface.

The impact with the cold water took his breath for a mind-numbing second. When Kurt broke the surface, it was just in time to see Ivan's black-clad form vanish in the water. He didn't think, he just dove after him, using all the strength he had to reach him. For a fleeting moment it seemed like he would lose the Russian when his hands grasped at nothing. But Kurt knew he couldn't let that happen, couldn't allow Ivan to die. Not now, not tonight. Not if there was anything he could do to prevent it.

Kurt pushed harder, dove deeper, and then his hand connected with something soft. It was the collar of Ivan's tuxedo and Kurt held on with all his strength, pulling the motionless man up to the surface. Once he had taken a deep breath of fresh air, Kurt rearranged his grip on Ivan, making sure the Russian's head was above the waterline so he could breath. 

_If_ he was still breathing. The thought shot through Kurt like a dagger cutting into his flesh. He didn't know how badly Ivan was hurt, if he was just unconscious or... dead. He only knew that a bullet had hit him before the powerboat had gone down. It could have hit him anywhere, there was no way to tell, and he was in no position to check it right now.

Kurt pushed the thought aside with all his might, concentrating on the problems at hand, his grip on Ivan never easing. Suddenly there were hands grabbing him, pulling him and Ivan into a boat that had come up next to them. It took Kurt a moment to understand that it wasn't Razov's goons that had caught them. He couldn't believe his luck when he realised that they'd been saved by the crew of the _Constitution_. 

Relief washed over him, warm and overwhelming in its intensity, when he saw Ivan in right next to him, laid out in the rowing boat, with his eyes open and one hand raised to give a weak wave in Kurt's direction.

 

****

***

Ivan shifted on the makeshift mattress that some of the sailors had built for him so that he didn't have to lie on the hard wooden deck. His head hurt as if he'd been rammed by a truck, but at least he had no double vision. In his experience, that was a good sign.

Out of the corner of the eye, he saw Kurt finish talking to the officer on deck, then the American strode over to where Ivan was resting on his life vest mattress. 

"How are you feeling, _toravich_?" Kurt asked and knelt down next to Ivan, motioning for the sailor who had looked out for Ivan that he would take over his watch. 

Ivan glanced at Kurt with a pained smile. "I have a splitting headache, as you would expect after having a bullet bounce off a corner of my skull." 

"Let me have a look." Kurt didn't wait for Ivan to allow it, he just went ahead, leaning over him and inspecting the wound on his forehead. Fingers touched the cool skin of Ivan's chin, slowly turning his head so that it was angled better for Kurt to look. Ivan felt the fingers leave his jaw, trailing up to where a pad of gauze was pressed to his left temple, easing it off with care. 

"The bleeding has stopped. Looks pretty clean. Might need stitches, though." Kurt said after a moment of touching the edges of the wound with the pad of gauze. "That was a close call. Just a tiny bit to the right and that would have been it."

Ivan heard how the American's voice didn't quite reach the light, casual tone he had obviously aimed for. Ivan stared up at Kurt's throat and chin that were close to his face due to Kurt leaning over him. "Why is it that every time I get too close to you, I get blown up or shot?"

"Just lucky, I guess." Kurt replied with a low chuckle, never stopping the gentle touch of his fingers. "Razov must have taken something I said the wrong way. Sorry that you lost your man."

Ivan took a deep breath, noting the faint scent that he could now identify as simply Kurt. "I am, too. He wasn't a bad sort for a Ukrainian."

"Promise me to take it easy, okay? You got banged up pretty nicely, don't make it worse." Kurt remarked quietly, and his tone didn't carry the usual teasing note. All Ivan could concentrate on was the feeling of the fingers that traced not only the outline of his new injury, but also passed over the scar on his right cheek. “You have to be more careful, Ivan, or you'll get yourself killed.”

Ivan had to lick his lips before he was able to speak. “Why do you care?”

“Didn't you get my card?” Kurt's fingers stopped their movement as Kurt leaned back and caught Ivan's gaze. He held it firmly, then his fingertips slowly trailed over the scar again. This time there was no doubt that it was a caress, the fingers gentle and their touch soft and intent. It made a shiver run through Ivan's entire body that he couldn't suppress, no matter how hard he tried. He knew Kurt felt it when he saw him smile. “I already told you, this game is no fun without you, _Vanya_.”

It was as if somebody had emptied a bucket of water over his body, but not cold water, no, scalding hot water. The heat swept through him, reaching every corner of his body, making his skin prickle. Nobody called him by that name anymore, not since he had left his family as a child. Nobody had the right to use it, Ivan had never let anybody close enough to allow such familiarity.

His gaze bore into Kurt's and there was no doubt in the American's eyes that he knew exactly what he did when using the affectionate from of Ivan's name. It wasn't an accident, and it wasn't meant to rile Ivan up. And that Ivan didn't chide him for using it was all the answer he needed.

"Mr Austin!" The dark voice of the officer on deck interrupted their staring contest. Kurt threw a glance in the direction of the man and gave a nod to let him know he was coming. 

"I have to go." Kurt slowly pulled his hand back from Ivan's cheek before he stood up. "I'll see you later."

Kurt turned towards the officer and walked over to him, quickly engaged in a discussion with him. Ivan stared after Kurt with a frown and tried to grasp what had just happened. Because he was sure something _had_ happened, he just wasn't sure _what_. He had an idea, but he wasn't willing to put it in words. Yet. 

He turned his head so that it rested more comfortably on his life vest mattress, staring up at the sails of the _Old Ironsides_ , and decided that he wouldn't have to remind himself anymore to call Kurt 'Austin'. After saving each other's life, they were definitely on a first-name basis. 

If his American dared to call him _'Vanya'_ , then he had every right to call him _'Kurt'_ in return. 

 

****

***

The anti-septic smell was the first thing that entered Kurt's senses. He didn't like it, it reminded him of too much time spend in hospitals. He made his way to the receptionist of the ER and used all his charm to find out where they had brought Ivan. The nurse was very open to his advances and let him know that he was still in treatment in room four. Kurt thanked her with another flirty smile and headed over to where a huge blue '4' was mounted to the wall next to a pair of swing doors.

When he entered, he found Ivan sitting on a treatment chair, a frown on his face and his glare directed at a young female doctor who was just finishing applying a butterfly bandage to his temple. "We want to keep you overnight to keep an eye on you."

"I'm not going to stay. I'll check myself out and get a hotel." Ivan declared matter-of-fact. It was a discussion they had obviously already been leading for a few minutes.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that." She looked at him, her eyes serious. "You have a head wound and a possible concussion. You cannot be alone tonight."

Ivan snorted. "It's not my first concussion. I know what I'm doing."

"That may very well be, but I'm the doctor in charge and I'm not taking the responsibility for your self-diagnosis." the young doctor said resolutely. There was a determined set to her jaw and Kurt thought that she could probably match his Russian in the stubbornness department.

Kurt could see how Ivan was preparing for a vicious fight and stepped in before things turned ugly. "He can stay with me. I'll keep an eye on him."

Ivan's head came around slowly, and Kurt couldn't tell it if was because it hurt or because he had already known Kurt was there and wasn't surprised in the least. Probably the second option. The young doctor looked at him with a stern gaze for a moment, as if checking if he was worth her trust. Kurt didn't flinch, he just returned her gaze evenly.

"And you are?"

"My name is Kurt Austin, Doc. I'm a friend of that stubborn patient of yours." He replied with a smirk and a jerk of his chin at Ivan who was just silently glaring at him.

He seemed to have passed her test, because she gave a nod. "All right. I'll release him into your care. Make sure that he rests and takes his pills."

"You have my word." Kurt said earnestly.

She gave them some instructions and a prescription for mild painkillers before she allowed Ivan to leave. Kurt hovered close by while Ivan checked out, and he couldn't help noticing that the name on the form wasn't Ivan's. It was probably one of his many aliases, but Kurt didn't ask.

When they walked to the elevator, Kurt kept a careful eye on Ivan and his movements to find out how bad off he really was. He knew his Russian well enough to be aware that he would rather hide any weakness - including pain or dizziness - than allow it to show. When they made it to Kurt's rental, Ivan got in the passenger seat without making a fuss.

"Thank you for getting me out." the Russian said quietly after a few minutes of driving.

"You're welcome, partner." Kurt replied, weaving through the evening traffic.

"You can let me out at the Hyatt Regency. I have a room there."

Kurt just snorted. "Forget it. I gave that doctor my word to take care of you and that's what I'm going to do."

Ivan gave him a mocking glance. "I'm a big boy, Kurt, I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that you can, but you're still going to come with me, take your painkillers and sleep until morning." Kurt said firmly and tried to ignore how his skin prickled at hearing Ivan use his first name. He hadn't done that before, not once.

Ivan stared at him for a long time, then he turned to look out at the street. "Where are we going?"

"Boston Harbour Hotel. I have a room there."

"Not bad." Ivan remarked with a low whistle. "NUMA spares no expense, do they?"

"I was lucky and got the jackpot this time." Kurt shrugged and smirked at Ivan. To be honest, it was Max who had convinced Sandecker to get him into the Harbour Hotel because it allowed a perfect view on Razov's yacht and had given her and Hieram the chance to try out some of their new spying gadgets. 

They arrived at the hotel only a few minutes later. Ivan managed to get up to the room without needing any help. He was steadier that Kurt would have expected given his injury, but he wasn't going to comment on it and risk Ivan's wrath. Or a tonne of mocking comments. 

"You take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch." Kurt said when he had let them into the spacious room. He heard Ivan take a breath behind him as if he was going to protest and turned towards his Russian with his finger pointing at him. "And don't you dare to contradict me. You're injured and I officially took the responsibility for you when I bailed you out of the hospital. So be quiet and take the bed."

Ivan stared at him for a moment as if he couldn't decide whether to be affronted or amused, then he chuckled. "You can be really bossy, you know that?"

"Just with the right people." Kurt grinned at Ivan over his shoulder. He knelt down by his overnight bag and dug through it. "You're about my size, so my clothes should fit you. I'll give you something to sleep in and something to wear tomorrow."

Ivan made an amused sound. "That's what I call 'international bonding' - we're even sharing clothes."

"Can't be helped." Kurt eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, you can of course wear that ripped and soaked tuxedo of yours."

Ivan dismissively fingered the dirty remains of his once-fancy evening attire. "I think I'll settle for your clothes."

Kurt grinned triumphantly. "Thought so."

He assembled some things from his bag before he got up and came over to where Ivan was standing by the window, looking out over the nighttime Boston harbour. The _Kazachestvo_ wasn't visible anymore.

"Here you go." Kurt said and handed Ivan a stack of neatly folded clothes. "That should do for starters. There's a spare hotel toothbrush and some towels in the bathroom. Go clean up and get ready to hit the sack. No staying up late for you tonight."

"I'm not invalid, you know." Ivan remarked, but there was a smirk tugging on his lips. He accepted the clothes and then he actually did as told. That was enough to let Kurt know that Ivan had to be more tired than he let on. The door closed behind the Russian, followed by the sounds of the shower running and teeth being brushed, and he emerged not ten minutes later wearing the clean boxer-briefs and the black singlet that Kurt had given him. 

Kurt licked his lips in an unconscious gesture. It was the first time he saw Ivan without his baggy clothes. It was the first time he saw so much of Ivan's bare skin, and even if he knew it wasn't the right moment, he couldn't help _looking_. Ivan was every bit as athletic as Kurt had assumed, toned arms and broad shoulder, slim hips and strong legs. There were several scars spread over his body, obviously attained in the field, because Kurt could easily identify a number of them as healed knife or bullet wounds.

It was his left leg that gave Kurt a pause. There were scars visible too, running down his thigh from under his shorts, meeting at the knee where they formed a net of white lines that stretched down to his foot. For a moment, it made Kurt almost physically sick to know that he had been the cause of those scars, realising how incredibly close Ivan had come to dying in 1987. He forcefully reminded himself that he had done all in his power to keep Ivan away from the sub, but it didn't ease the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Kurt looked up and his gaze found Ivan's. His visual exploration hadn't taken more than a few seconds, but that was long enough for Ivan to notice. His eyes were dark but tired, and they told him that Ivan wasn't going to say anything right now. Kurt could easily spot all the little signs of pain in Ivan's face, so he reached for the prescription painkiller and shook one out on his palm. "Here, take that."

Ivan stared at the pill with a reluctant frown. Kurt understood it, he didn't particularly like painkillers either, but he knew they were necessary to make Ivan sleep through the night and allow him to rest properly. 

"You need to sleep, and I know from personal experience that it won't be possible with a headache like the one you're bound to have."

Ivan's mouth tightened into a thin line, then he wordlessly took the pill and swallowed it dry. Kurt didn't make any comment, although this would have been the perfect opportunity for teasing. He wanted Ivan to relax, it wasn't his intention to rile him up. It wasn't long before the lines around Ivan's mouth eased, telling Kurt that the painkiller was kicking in. 

They were sitting on the couch, following the news that were on every channel, reporting about the event that had taken place at Boston harbour tonight. Kurt wasn't really listening, he was more paying attention to the man next to him. He saw how Ivan's eyelids fluttered now and again, a sure sign that he was exhausted but unwilling to admit it. Too stubborn for his own good. 

Kurt switched off the TV and grabbed Ivan's hands, pulling him up from the couch. "Come on, time for you to sleep."

"I'm not a child, Kurt." Ivan protested, but there was no heat behind his words. Kurt knew that the painkillers probably made him mellow, at least that was what they always did to _him_. He guided Ivan over to the kingsize bed and made him sit down.

"Sleep. You need rest, and I know you know it." He settled his hands on Ivan's shoulders and gently but firmly pressed him down on the bed. "We've both been injured more than once and we both know that rest is the only thing that's going to make you feel better."

Ivan gave up resistance and relaxed into the pillows. "You're a mother hen."

Kurt grinned. "Only with you."

"Good to know." Ivan's voice was low, as if he was already drifting to sleep.

"Just relax, Ivan." Kurt patted his shoulder affectionately. "I'll go brush my teeth."

When Kurt returned from the bathroom, it was to find Ivan sound asleep in the bed. He was still lying on top of the comforter and Kurt chuckled while walking over to him. He gently extracted the blankets from underneath the Russian, careful not to wake him, and tucked him in. Ivan didn't move at all, which Kurt attributed to the painkillers, because he couldn't imagine that Ivan was a heavy sleeper given his background. 

For a moment, Kurt looked down at the sleeping face. It was too pale, the scar on the right cheek standing out almost as much as the butterfly bandages on the left temple. Ivan looked tired yet relaxed, his mouth slightly agape and his face free of the hard lines that defined it during the day. It was a sight that Kurt was sure Ivan usually wouldn't allow anybody to see. He wondered what it meant that the Russian felt comfortable enough with Kurt to let him see him like this, in a weak moment, with his shields down. 

There was something rising inside Kurt that he was almost scared to define, a warm and caring feeling that he could only describe as affection. He touched his hand to Ivan's right cheek, sensing the puckered scar tissue under his fingertips, then he bent down and brought his lips to Ivan's forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. 

"Sweet dreams, Vanya." Kurt murmured against the skin under his lips before he straightened and headed over to the couch. He lay down and stretched out under one of the blankets he had taken from the bed. In his mind, he thanked Max again for getting him into this luxurious hotel, because that meant that the couch was actually long enough for him to comfortably sleep on it. 

Kurt woke early, just as was his habit, and headed for the shower. Ivan was still out to the world, hidden underneath the blankets and breathing deep and regularly. When Kurt came out of the bathroom, it was to find Ivan dressed in a pair of black jeans and a dark shirt of Kurt's, studying the trolley from room service that was laden with food and drink.

"Hmm, you made breakfast." Kurt remarked with a teasing smirk as he crossed the room, toweling his hair dry. "You know how to get in my good graces."

Ivan gave a slightly mocking bow. "That's all I ever wanted."

"You're a charmer, Ivan." Kurt smirked and studied him unobtrusively. Ivan looked much better than last night. The shadows under his eyes were almost gone and his skin had lost its paleness. His eyes were awake and sparkling with good humour. The only obvious reminder of last night's events were the butterfly bandages on his left temple.

"I'm doing my best." the Russian replied and reached for the coffee pot. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Black, two sugar, please." Kurt said while returning the towel to the bathroom. When he came over to the table, Ivan had spread out a rich breakfast with eggs, bacon, rolls and more. A mug of steaming hot coffee waited for Kurt and he sat down with a pleased sigh. "Now that's what I call a decent breakfast."

Ivan was sitting next to him, taking a sip from his own mug. "I was hungry, and I guessed that you were, too."

"Good guess." Kurt replied before helping himself to the eggs and bacon. "I'm flying to Washington D.C. later today. You're coming along?"

Ivan shook his head. "I have to take care of a few things here first. I'll meet up with you in Washington."

Kurt nodded and returned to his eggs and bacon. He enjoyed the breakfast, and, he admitted to himself, the company. Ivan quietly ate his food, obviously taking as much pleasure in the rich breakfast as Kurt. 

It was almost eight o'clock when they were ready to leave, Kurt with his overnight bag over his shoulder and Ivan without any baggage at all, since he had got rid of his ruined tuxedo. They left the room and walked to the elevator, taking it down to the ground floor. At the entrance of the hotel their ways parted, with Kurt taking a cab to the airport and Ivan heading off to whatever it was that he had to take care off. Kurt looked into the rear mirror of the cab and watched how the Russian became smaller and smaller until he disappeared entirely when the car turned a corner.

Only then did Kurt lean back into the seat, wondering what he was doing. The last ten hours since he had come to the hospital to get Ivan had almost been... _domestic_. There was no underlying tension, just comfortable teasing and mutual enjoyment of each other's company that left him feeling as if he knew Ivan much better than he actually did. They had been totally at ease with each other, something Kurt had never expected because they both enjoyed it too much to rile each other up. Ivan had even agreed to wearing Kurt's clothes, for crying out loud. That would definitely not have happened a week ago. 

Kurt let out a long sigh, wondering what the hell he was doing. The only thing he was sure of was that he was sailing in very dangerous waters.

 

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_**/ Washington, D.C., USA, 2002 /** _

Admiral Sandecker sighed as he made his way to the parking lot. He hated having to destroy the career of the vice-president, but it had to be done. The man had made the wrong decisions for the wrong reasons, and now he had to live with the consequences.

When he left the garden and reached the parking lot, Sandecker spotted Rudi, Hieram, Kurt and the two scientists waiting by the NUMA Jeep. There was a man he didn't know standing with the group, talking to Dr. Jenkins and Yaeger. Sandecker couldn't help noticing how he stood just a fraction too close to Kurt who didn't seem to mind at all and was quietly listening to the conversation. 

Somehow Sandecker just knew that the man was Kurt's Russian friend, Petrov. He was tall, just about an inch shorter than Kurt, with salt-and-pepper hair and an athletic built that was hidden under a baggy suit. There were two butterfly bandages on his left temple, obviously where he'd been grazed by the bullet the night before, and a long scar ran down his right cheek. The Russian's posture was relaxed and casual, but Sandecker wasn't fooled. He could sense that the man was far more dangerous than he let on. 

"Ah, Admiral." Rudi greeted Sandecker with a nod. "We have company."

Kurt gestured from one to the other. "Admiral James Sandecker, head of NUMA, this is Viktor Petrov, Siberian Pest Control."

Sandecker shook Petrov's hand with a raised eyebrow. "Siberian Pest Control?"

"Razov could be called a pest, don't you think?" Petrov asked, his face serious, but Sandecker could see the quick intelligence and the sharp humour behind his eyes.

"Indeed." Sandecker replied, chuckling quietly. He liked this man. "So where do you come in in our effort to control said pest?"

"Your men told me about your plan." Petrov's intense gaze found Sandecker's. "I would like to join in. Me and my men can act as the assault team boarding the _Kazachestvo_."

Kurt turned to Sandecker and raised an eyebrow in question. He obviously thought it was a good idea, and Sandecker had to agree. He still wasn't entirely sure if they could trust the Russian, but Kurt seemed certain of it. In general Kurt was a very good judge of character, and Sandecker trusted his opinion.

"Russians boarding a Russian ship." Sandecker nodded slowly as if he was thinking about the suggestion. "Not bad. That gives the whole mission even more deniability."

"That's what I thought." Kurt remarked and Sandecker couldn't help noticing the quick eye-contact between Kurt and the Russian. It seemed as if they were communicating without words. It was something Sandecker was used to from Kurt and his team, but he had never seen the leader of NUMA's Special Assignments Team do it with anybody else. 

"All right, we'll do a joint operation. I'll get the okay from the vice-president and you can get down to planing and organising the whole thing." Sandecker agreed and unlocked his Jeep. "Let's head back to headquarters and get started."

"Do you need a ride?" Rudi asked the Russian who shook his head.

"No, thank you. I have my own transportation." Petrov nodded at a nondescript black sedan parked nearby. "I'll meet up with you at NUMA headquarters."

"See you there." Kurt said before walking over to the passenger side of the Jeep. Dr. Jenkins said his goodbyes and headed for his rental. Everybody else got into the turquoise NUMA Jeep that Sandecker used when driving around Washington. Within a few minutes, they wove their way through the unpleasantly heavy traffic. 

"Do you think we can trust him?" Sandecker asked Kurt after a few minutes.

"Yes. Bringing down Razov and his crazy monk in his interest." Kurt shrugged. "He would go after Razov anyway, we can just as well combine our forces."

"Have you worked with him before?" Rudi asked from the back seat.

"Briefly. The events on Razov's yacht involved us working together."

Rudi nodded slowly. "Do you deem him reliable?"

Kurt didn't hesitate a second. "Absolutely."

Sandecker caught Rudi's gaze in the rear mirror and suppressed a smirk at the raised eyebrow. There was _something_ between Kurt and Petrov. He could feel it, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was. Obviously Rudi had noticed it too.

They reached the NUMA building after about half an hour of driving. Petrov was already waiting for them at the elevator and Sandecker decided not to question how the Russian had managed to arrive before them. They all got on the elevator and Yaeger and Reed left at the tenth floor. Kurt and Ivan got off two storeys later to plan the mission in Kurt's office. Once Sandecker and Rudi were alone, riding the up til the highest floor, Sandecker turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it with these two?" 

"Ahh, so it wasn't just me imagining things." Rudi replied, something like satisfaction - or maybe triumph - clear in his voice.

Sandecker snorted. "If _you_ were imagining things, then so was _I_."

"There seems to be some... _tension_ between them." Rudi made a vague gesture with his hand that included the space Petrov and Kurt had occupied a moment before.

Sandecker chuckled as the doors opened on his floor. "'Tension' is probably the PG way to put it." 

 

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_**/ US missile sub 'Benjamin Franklin', off the coast of Boston, USA, 2002 /** _

Kurt stood in the submarine's wardroom that was big enough easily to hold twenty to twenty-five men. Right now, apart from Joe and himself, there were a dozen of Ivan's men preparing for the assault on Razov's yacht. Kurt watched the group of seemingly ragtag Russians dressed in black combat uniforms and was astonished at the amount of vodka they were consuming between them. The bottle that was making the round was almost empty.

Ivan stood among the men, so obviously one of them. Kurt was surprised how different his Russian was in this setting. He wore the same combat uniform as the others and there was an aura of pleasant anticipation around him that reminded Kurt of how dangerous Ivan could be. His usual disguise worked too well sometimes. Here and now, there was no mistaking the warrior underneath the fake bureaucrat's attire.

Ivan said something that made his men break out in loud laughter and received a slap on his back that seemed forceful enough to break a normal human being's bones. He wasn't bothered by it at all, he just laughed with his men and took a sip of the vodka when it reached him. Then he turned and caught Kurt's gaze effortlessly as if he had felt it, and made his way over to where Kurt and Joe were standing. 

Kurt greeted him with a smirk. "Sounds like an amateur night at the Kremlin Comedy Club."

Ivan grinned and held out the bottle of vodka. Joe shook his head. "Thanks, I'm a tequila man."

"And I don't drink before missions." Kurt added. "What was the big joke?"

Ivan took a swig from the bottle before he said, "I reminded my men of an old Russian proverb: 'Live with wolves, howl like a wolf.'" 

Kurt just raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what Ivan was talking about.

"It's like your saying about birds of a feather." the Russian elaborated when he noticed that both Americans didn't understand his explanation. It didn't help much, Kurt still didn't get it.

"I'll explain later." Ivan smirked, his gaze caught Kurt's, and his words sounded like a promise. Then Ivan's fingers suddenly passed over Kurt's forehead, then over his cheeks, applying blotches of black paint to Kurt's face. He didn't stop then, though, his fingers lingered, spreading the paint carefully over Kurt's skin, a caress hidden under the task of helping a fellow warrior. 

“Now you're properly prepared for action.” Ivan remarked with a voice that was oddly rough, and the pad of his thumb traced Kurt's bottom lip for a second before he let his hands fall away and stepped back. 

Kurt only stared at him, aware of the goosebumps that spread all over his body under the combat suit. He still felt the touch on his lip as if it had left a burning trail, and before he could think about it, his tongue followed the path Ivan's finger had taken. Ivan's eyes focussed one the movement of the tip of Kurt's tongue and it sent a bolt of arousal through Kurt to see the Russian's eyes darken.

Holy shit, they were in it _deep_. Both of them. Kurt knew what would happen once this mission was over and they met again without impending danger. Maybe they could try out some of the things he'd done to Ivan in his nighttime fantasies.

The thought made him smirk, and he found his expression returned in the Russian's oddly handsome face.

Oh yes, they were going to have so much fun.

 

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_**/ 'Kazachestvo', off the coast of Boston, USA, 2002 /** _

The assault on Razov's yacht didn't go as smoothly as planned, but Kurt had enough scars all over his body to remind him that missions rarely did stick to the plan. They had this odd habit of getting complicated somewhere along the way.

At least they had successfully stopped the tsunami attack on the East Coast, and Boris the mad monk was finally dead. Of course it wasn't so good that Razov had escaped, but they would deal with that later. When Kurt hailed Ivan over the radio, he was relieved to hear that he was all right - not that Kurt would admit that. In fact, it seemed as if Ivan had enjoyed himself immensely on this mission, as if this was what he really loved doing. 

Kurt smirked when he got off the radio. Crazy Russian.

Something soft connected with his legs and when Kurt looked down, he was met with the dark brown eyes of Razov's wolfhounds. They were alternately nudging his thigh and pressing their cold wet noses in his hand. 

"Hey you two." Kurt greeted them with a good scratch behind the ears that resulted in enthusiastic tail-wagging. 

"They love you, don't they?" Joe asked with astonishment in his voice. "How do you do that?"

"When we first met, I shared a plate of sausages and ribs with them." Kurt grinned. "Must have made a lasting impression."

Joe snorted. "So what, you'll adopt them?"

Kurt was quiet for a moment, thinking about it, then he shrugged. "I can't leave them here, can I?"

Joe chuckled and shook his head in fond disbelief. "Let's go to find the others."

"Come on, guys." Kurt followed Joe down to the main deck, the two large white wolfhounds on his heels. 

Ivan looked at them with a slightly mocking expression when they reached him and his men. "Did you pick up strays, Kurt?"

Joe answered before Kurt could say a word. "He adopted them. Strays love Kurt. They find him wherever he goes."

One of the two hounds, Sasha the female, immediately approached Ivan. Kurt watched her sniff his hand, then she gave it a tentative lick. Ivan pulled his hand away and glared at the dog. "Keep your pets in check, Kurt."

"She likes you." Kurt just shrugged, unable to keep the grin off his face. "She's got taste."

Now Ivan's glare was directed at him. "I'm not her dinner."

Kurt laughed out aloud and patted Ivan's shoulder. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." Ivan replied so quietly that only Kurt could hear it, and there was a smirk on his face that left no doubt about what he was thinking.

Kurt felt a shiver run down his back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. They needed to find some time alone, a bed and enough privacy to get down to business without anybody listening in. Ivan seemed to read his thoughts and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Kurt grinned at him. Screw the bed, comfort was overrated. 

Just when he was about to say something along those lines, a chopper arrived overhead, its floodlights illuminating the yacht, and then a Coast Guard patrol boat came alongside ship. Kurt sighed with regret and turned meet with the arriving men. 

Time for business. Pleasure would come later.

 

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_**/ NUMA jet on course for England, 2002 /** _

Joe eyed Kurt who was sitting opposite of him, reading over some of the documents Perlmutter had sent them. Almost twenty hours had passed since their assault on Razov's yacht and his subsequent escape. That they had found out about the tsar's crown being in Lord Dodson's hands was more chance than planning, and since it was their only lead, Sandecker had given them green light to pursue it. That was how they had ended up on a NUMA jet on the way to London, the only two passengers on the plane.

Kurt was concentrated on the text he was reading, every now and then checking something in another document. Joe had relaxed into his comfortable seat, enjoying a moment of rest. He had already read all those papers when Perlmutter had first sent them in and Kurt, as the leader of the Special Assignments Team, had still been tied up in the aftermath of the mission.

Speaking of being tied up, Joe's thoughts jumped back to the time they'd spent on the _Benjamin Franklin_ before boarding Razov's yacht. The show that he'd been given by Kurt and his Russian... Well, let's just say that it had cemented his suspicion that there was something going on between those two. And this was a great opportunity to find out what it was about, get some background on Kurt's and Ivan's history. 

Joe smirked. It wasn't like Kurt could escape him on a plane.

“You've got it bad, you know that?” Joe remarked, now with a full blown grin. He just couldn't help himself. He just had to comment what he'd witnessed on the submarine.

“Got it bad for what?” Kurt asked, not really paying him any attention since he was distracted by the text he was reading. 

“For your Russian. Ivan-if-that's-his-real-name.” Joe clarified it only because he was sure Kurt didn't ask because he was playing dumb, but because he really had no idea what Joe was talking about. Sometimes the man could be so clueless it was almost amusing.

Kurt actually looked up at that, a frown on his face. “I don't have it bad for him.”

“Oh yes, you do. You've practically been undressing him with your eyes when we were preparing for attack in that wardroom.” Joe stopped, as if he had to consider something, then he added, “Not that he's been any better. Or less obvious. I mean, that thing with him spreading paint in your face? Not subtle at all.”

Kurt didn't reply. No, he actually _blushed_. Joe couldn't believe it – if that wasn't a first! He'd never in his life seen the famous Kurt Austin blush. Over a guy, no less.

“So, I was right. You've got it bad for him.” Joe leaned back in his seat with a triumphant smile.

Kurt put away the documents in his hand. “There might be... a connection.” 

Joe just snorted. Loudly, to make his point clear. “Yeah, sure, Kurt. Tell yourself that.”

“We've just met, what, two weeks ago? There's not been that much time to establish anything beyond a... connection.” Kurt defended himself with vigour.

Joe didn't buy it. “How long have you known him?”

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. “I've just told you, maybe two weeks.”

“Let me rephrase: When did you first have any kind of contact with him?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. He'd known exactly what Joe had been asking. “In 1985. We we both supposed to take care of a sunken Iranian ship. We never met, though, just radio contact.”

"And then?" Joe knew there was more to it.

"We crossed paths a year later over a plane that had crashed into the sea. Again, only radio contact."

"You're not telling me everything." Joe said with a chiding tone in his voice. Getting information about Ivan was like pulling teeth.

"A few month later, I carried out a rescue mission for a stranded sub in Russian waters and Ivan was sent to prevent that." Kurt kept things down to the directly necessary information, obviously trying not to tell too much about his top secret past. Joe appreciated that he was willing to tell him about it. "We got away, but had to abandon the ship, so we set the self-destruction mechanism. I warned Ivan to stay clear, but of course he didn't believe me. The sub blew up when he was close and he got pretty badly injured." 

"The scar and the limp?" Joe asked, suddenly understanding some things about Kurt and Ivan that hadn't made sense before.

Kurt nodded. "Yip." 

Joe was sure there was more to it, though. “So what did you do?”

Kurt was quiet for so long that Joe wondered it he would answer at all. Then he chuckled and said, “I sent him flowers and a get-well-soon card.”

“Aha.” Joe let the silence stretch. He knew it would unnerve Kurt enough to tell him more.

It worked, even if Kurt resisted longer than Joe had expected. “I might have sent him a second bouquet.”

“And another card?”

Kurt shrugged, almost looking embarrassed. “And another card.”

Now Joe was really curious. “Care to elaborate?”

“I told him I wanted him back in the game because it was no fun without him.”

Joe just raised an eyebrow. “That's not all, I can tell.”

There was a moment of silence before Kurt sighed. “I might have called him 'Vanya' on the second card.”

“Oh dear. You just had to pull his pigtails, didn't you?” Joe couldn't help laughing. He had difficulties to think of a bear of a man like Ivan in terms of cute nicknames. To think that Kurt had actually done that was just hilarious.

Kurt shrugged again, and now he was clearly embarrassed. “Believe me, I know how stupid that was, but it was just too tempting to tease him. At least I could be reasonably sure that he would destroy the card. He wouldn't have kept something so discriminating around.”

“Oh yes, you've got it bad for him.” Joe chuckled, taking immense pleasure in teasing Kurt.

“Stop saying that, Joe." Kurt grumbled. "It's annoying.”

“It's the truth.” Joe grinned, and there was a definitely mischievous edge to it. “If there hadn't been me and his men around on the sub, you would have jumped him right then and there.”

Kurt was silent for a long moment, then he seemed to have come to a decision and a smirk tugged on his lips. “You have to admit, he looks smoking hot in combat dress.”

“I knew it. You've got it bad.” Joe just laughed. “So, tell me, do you still call him 'Vanya'?”

Kurt grinned. “None of your business, Joe.” 

 

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_**/ Washington, D.C., USA, 2002 /** _

Ivan took a strange kind of pleasure in hunting Kurt's scull with his powerboat. It was just beautiful to watch the play of Kurt's muscles as he steered his boat with exquisite skill over the river, knowing all the troubles and currents. Of course Kurt had no chance, and Ivan knew that because he had done his homework and had studied this part of the Potomac River with great attention. 

Only when he had Kurt trapped for good, meaning that they were heading straight at each other ready for a head-on collision, did Ivan break off his game. He couldn't help laughing loudly at the expression on Kurt's face when he stepped to the bow to show himself to the American.

"Hello, Ivan." Kurt still looked like his heart had leapt into his throat, but he nevertheless managed a smile. "I was wondering when you'd show up again. How'd you know I'd be out here?"

Ivan smirked and just shrugged instead of answering. Let Kurt wonder about a few things, it only added to the fun.

"You might be interested to know that I checked into _your_ dossier." Kurt gave him a wide smile. Ivan felt that there was more to the words. "Seems you've only become Viktor Petrov in the last couple of years."

For a moment, Ivan expected Kurt to ask what his real name was, if it was indeed 'Ivan'. It was a question he wasn't ready to answer yet, not even to the only person who actually used his real name. But Kurt didn't ask, and Ivan hid his relief behind a rhetorical question. "As the poet said, what's in a name?"

Kurt held his gaze for another moment before he abruptly changed the topic. "When do you leave for home?"

"Tomorrow. Your president has turned the tsar's treasure to my country." Ivan replied, glad to return to safe ground. "I'll be returning to Russia as a hero. There's even talk of political office. With the disappearance of Razov, his Cossack forces are in a disarray and the moderates have a chance of staying in power."

Kurt gave him a smile that was so obviously sincere that it made Ivan feel warm all over. "Congratulations. You deserve it."

"Thank you, but to be honest, can you really see me sitting in the parliament?" Ivan laughed.

"Not really." Kurt smirked. "You'll always be a man of the shadows."

"Do you blame me?" Ivan shrugged. "It's where I belong and where I'm the most comfortable."

"Maybe you could answer a couple of questions before you take on your next identity." Kurt smirked at him, they were both very well aware that whatever Ivan's current identity, Kurt would always call him 'Ivan'. "Was Razov really descended from the tsar?"

And just like that they were engaged in a conversation about Razov's past, the tsar, the Grand Duchess Maria and how Kurt and Joe had watched Razov and the crown of Ivan the Terrible disappear in the muddy grave of a river. Ivan enjoyed the slightly bickering tone of their exchange, it was easy and comfortable in its familiarity. 

Ivan was just about to end the conversation and take off when Kurt caught his gaze and threw him a challenging grin. "Do you have any plans for today, or do you want to join me for breakfast?"

The offer took Ivan by surprise, but he realised it probably shouldn't have. "I'm free today. It's my day off, so to speak."

"Great. I can offer you omelette, beacon and great Jamaican coffee." That there were other, more naughty things on the menu was clearly understood even if Kurt hadn't voiced it. His smile said it all.

"Sounds very promising." Ivan found himself return the smile and mean it. "How could I refuse?"

Kurt smirked, then he took a stroke with the oars to get his scull moving. "I'm sure you know where my house is."

Ivan only inclined his head in acknowledgement. Of course he knew where Kurt lived.

"You can dock on the deck of the boathouse." Kurt shouted over the growing distance. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be there soon."

Ivan started the powerboat and overtook Kurt within seconds. He took the direct route to Kurt's boathouse and berthed on its deck, just as he had been told. He took a look around, then he sat down in the comfortable deck chair and looked out over the river, waiting for the scull to appear. It didn't take long before it came around the bend, moving with astonishing speed, almost flying over the water. Ivan watched, mesmerised by the perfection of Kurt's movements, the strength of his strokes and the harmony of his body and the boat. 

Only a few minutes later Kurt had reached the deck and smirked up at Ivan. "I see you made yourself at home. I'll be with you in a minute, I just have to put the scull in its rack."

He disappeared under the boathouse and walked up to the deck a few minutes later. He unlocked the door and let Ivan in. "Welcome to my humble home."

Ivan looked around, curious what new things he would learn about Kurt from the way he lived and from the objects he kept in his house. There was a comfortable feeling to the bright den-study with its colonial furniture. Rows of shelves were lining the walls, filled with books and the collection of progressive jazz that Ivan had read about in Kurt's dossier. 

"Do you want some coffee?" Kurt stood by the coffee machine in the adjacent kitchen, looking expectantly at Ivan.

"Sure." Ivan replied and watched how Kurt moved about with the ease of somebody familiar in his surroundings. They were dancing around each other, and they both new it. Ivan decided to take a step in the right direction and walked over to where Kurt was putting out two mugs. He stepped up behind him, setting his hands on Kurt's hips, sliding a thumb under his t-shirt to touch his skin.

Kurt stilled, then he leaned into the touch and continued readying the coffee machine. Once he had pressed the button and the coffee was brewing, he turned around, never breaking Ivan's hold on his hips.

"This is risky." Kurt remarked with a raised eyebrow, a challenging smirk on his lips.

Ivan just shrugged. "Life is risky. Without risks, it would be no fun."

Kurt took the final step closer that brought his body in contact with Ivan's. His smirk was predatory, and his right hand settled on Ivan's neck, the grip strong and sure. "So you're willing to take this particular risk?"

"I think that is obvious." Ivan replied, his skin feeling hot and highly sensitive where his American was touching him. He let his hands wander higher under Kurt's t-shirt until they were resting fully on his warm skin.

"I don't do anything halfway. You should know that." Kurt remarked, holding Ivan's gaze.

"Well, neither do I." Ivan smirked, then he pressed against Kurt's tall frame. "You done talking?"

Kurt grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hell yeah."

He bent down in one fluid movement to overcome the inch of height that separated him and Ivan. When his lips settled over Ivan's, there was no uncertainty in his approach. Ivan smiled into the kiss, then he opened his mouth and met Kurt's tongue with his own, challenging it into a pleasurable battle for dominance. Kurt let out a low groan that was almost lost in their kiss, his hands burying in the salt-and-pepper hair, pulling Ivan as close as physically possible. It made a shiver of arousal run through Ivan's entire body and he felt his growing erection press against the confines of his shorts. Kurt's thigh nudged between his legs and Ivan couldn't help rubbing his hardness against it, creating delicious friction. Oh yeah, this was what he wanted, what he had wanted ever since he had first set eyes on the American. _His_ American.

Kurt angled his head so that he could deepen the kiss, his hands leaving Ivan's hair to wander down his neck to his shoulders, then lower still over his sides to his hips where they took a firm hold. Goosebumps followed wherever his fingers passed, leaving Ivan craving more. Then Kurt pushed Ivan backwards until he felt the edge of the kitchen counter in his back. Suddenly there were hands taking hold of his thighs, unexpectedly lifting him up until he came to sit on the counter. Ivan was surprised to find that he didn't mind being manhandled like that, not when it meant that he could wrap his legs around Kurt's waist and press their groins flush together to get some of that friction back.

Not to mention that when sitting on the counter, he was taller than Kurt. The thought made him chuckle into their kiss. He tugged on Kurt's t-shirt, letting go of his mouth just long enough to pull it over his head and rip off his own shirt. As soon as he had rid them of the barrier of their clothes, Ivan was back to kissing Kurt with single-minded determination. His hands found the delicious expanse of Kurt's bare skin, wandering over his toned arms, his shoulders, down his strong back. He felt scars under his fingertips, different in shape and size, and he followed them by touch, learning them by heart. 

Kurt shuddered under his hands, pressing even closer, never stopping devouring Ivan's mouth. They were equals in this passionate encounter, giving and taking in balance, and it was the first time that Ivan didn't mind giving up the lead from time to time. It felt reassuring to get the same impression from his American. When Ivan buried his hands in Kurt's steel-grey hair and bent his head backwards so that he could trail a path of bites down his neck, Kurt not only let him, he actually bared his throat and leaned into Ivan's touch. It made a surge of possessiveness wash over him and before he had thought about it, Ivan had left an angry red mark on the side of Kurt's neck, close to his collarbone. 

Kurt must have felt it, but he only chuckled and pulled Ivan closer until their naked chests touched. His hands had found their way under Ivan's shorts and now they cupped his buttocks and pressed their groins together in a most pleasant way. Ivan rubbed against Kurt's hardness which he could feel through their clothes, and simultaneously pressed back in the hands on his butt. He was panting, feeling the American's pulse beating frantically where Ivan's forehead was resting against Kurt's neck right over his pulse point. Ivan stretched just enough to lick his skin, it tasted salty from sweat and warm from the sun, and Ivan wanted more, he wanted...

The coffee machine beeped, loud and obtrusive, making it known that it had finished its job. The unexpected sound interrupted their passion-induced make-out session and broke the spell that had held them captive. The smell of fresh, strong coffee filled the kitchen, entering their noses and making their mouths water. 

Kurt rested his forehead against Ivan's with a low chuckle.

"I think my coffee machine wants us to stop." he murmured, breath coming too fast.

"Maybe it's telling us to actually eat some of that breakfast you promised me." Ivan replied with a smirk. He took pleasure in the debauched look of Kurt's face: His eyes were closed, his mouth agape and his lips swollen from their kisses. It was a good look on him, Ivan decided.

"Possibly." Kurt stretched until he could nibble on Ivan's bottom lip and mumbled, "Would be a shame to let all those tasty things go to waste."

"Hmmm." Ivan didn't care much for food right now. He had other things on his mind, but his stomach growled to remind him that he hadn't had a decent breakfast yet.

"Seems I have to feed you." Kurt chuckled, his hand petting Ivan's stomach. "How about omelette and bacon to go along with the coffee I promised you?"

"Sounds good. I think I'm getting hungry." Ivan mused when his stomach growled again. 

Kurt straightened, his hands coming to rest on Ivan's thighs where he was sitting in front of him on the counter. "How about you cut the mushrooms, the onions and the herbs for the omelette and I get started on the bacon?"

Ivan just raised an eyebrow. "Bossy."

Kurt laughed. "Come on, you know you like it." 

Ivan hit on the back of the head, but there was no force behind it. "Don't get cocky."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Kurt replied with an innocent smile. Then he stepped back, pulling Ivan off the counter along with him, and gave him another quick kiss before stepping over to the fridge. For a moment Ivan stared at his broad back, amazed at the easy familiarity they shared. He had expected a quick sexual encounter to satisfy their mutual attraction, but nothing more. Now he was in Kurt's kitchen, cooking breakfast as if they were living together, and while the arousal was still there, it wasn't the defining element of their relationship anymore. It took him by surprise, left him confused and speechless, but he quickly regained his composure. 

Kurt put out everything they needed to cook and while he prepared the bacon and heated the pan, Ivan cut the vegetables with the speed of a master of the blade. Within minutes, the kitchen was filled with the delicious smells of breakfast and Ivan set the table on the deck while Kurt put the finishing touch to the omelettes. He brought the plates out and set them on the table, followed by steaming mugs of coffee. The domesticity of the situation was so abstruse that it almost made Ivan laugh. 

"I'll get Sasha and Gorky to join us. They can act as our chaperones." Kurt said with a smirk and headed for the front door. "Or help us eat. They'd love that."

"I'm sure they would, but I don't like to share my food." Ivan followed him, entirely comfortable wearing nothing but his shorts, and watched his American call the two wolfhounds. They listened to him as if he had trained them from an early age on. Sasha had taken to Ivan immediately and spent her time pressed to his legs whenever he was within her reach. She had done that ever since she had met him on Razov's yacht after the assault. At first it had annoyed Ivan, but he'd got used to it in the course of time. His men hadn't stopped teasing him all the trip back to shore.

"What are you planning to do with those two?" Ivan asked while he followed Kurt back out on the deck.

"They'll be my houseguests for the time being. I'll find a new home for them when I go on my next assignment." Kurt sat down on the deck chair and Gorky immediately lay down to his feet. "In the meantime, I would like to take you an a boat ride later today."

Ivan just raised an eyebrow and scratched Sasha behind the ears.

"Paul and Gamay have invited Joe and me to a trip down the Potomac River." Kurt elaborated while cutting his omelette. "It seems that Joe has told them quite a bit about you and made them curious. They'd love to meet you."

Ivan eyed Kurt over the rim of his mug. "Why would I let myself be analysed by your co-workers?"

Kurt caught his gaze and held it, the food forgotten on his plate. "Not just co-workers, Ivan. _Friends_. They want to get to know you."

 _'Because they know I care about you.'_ The words weren't spoken, but Ivan heard them nevertheless. He gave it another second, then he nodded. "Fine. Let's go for a boat ride."

A smile spread over Kurt's face, real and heartfelt, and Ivan found that he suddenly didn't mind it so much anymore to spend the day with Kurt's closest friends.

 

****

***

When they arrived at the Gangplank Marina at noon, the turquoise sailing boat at the end of the dock was clearly visible even through the maze of masts of the other boats. Kurt headed straight for it with Ivan following right behind on the narrow floating dock. They were carrying a small basket with water, a sixpack of beer and some food for dinner. When Kurt had called Gamay to let her know that he would bring Ivan along, she had tasked him with bringing some desert since Joe would take care of the meat and she and Paul would provide the rest.

"Hey boys!" Gamay greeted them with a huge smile, showing the gap between her front teeth. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, her dark red hair pulled back in a messy bun, and she was looking relaxed and cheerful. She jumped from the boat onto the floating dock and hugged Kurt before holding out her hand to Ivan. "It's great you're coming along."

"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Trout." Ivan shook her hand and even gave her a smile.

Gamay laughed. "It's Gamay. Nobody calls me Mrs. Trout."

Ivan nodded. "Then call me Viktor." 

"Great to have you with us, Viktor." Her smile turned mischievous. "I have to admit that Joe fed us so many stories that we were curious to meet you."

Kurt gave a exaggerated sigh. "Do I even want to know what he told you?"

"Probably not." Gamay replied, her smile widening. "Speaking of the devil, here he comes."

Joe walked towards them with a grocery bag on his arm, sunglasses in his hair and a huge grin on his face when he spotted Ivan. "My, my, look who's here!"

Kurt greeted him with a glare, hiding his amused smile. "What did you tell them about Ivan?"

"You wouldn't want to know." Joe replied immediately, voice dry. "By the way, nice hickey."

Kurt's hand came up to cover the bruise on his neck while he got ready to shoot back.

"Boys, boys, no arguments on my boat." Gamay chided, her eyes sparkling with laughter. She was used to their bickering and had become a master in handling them.

"We're not on your boat yet." Joe retorted with a smirk. "And anyway, it's not yours. The colour is a dead giveaway."

"Got me. We could arrange to borrow the _Eagle_ for a few days." Gamay pointed at the sleek, thirty foot sailing boat behind her, painted in the turquoise colour typical for NUMA vessels. "Paul and I want to relax a bit and enjoy the good weather, and we thought you guys might like to spend a day on the water with us."

"Great idea." Joe agreed before he pointedly raise the grocery bag he was carrying. "So, where do I put this?"

"Come aboard." Gamay stepped onto the narrow plank that connected the boat with the floating dock. "We have a small pantry where you can store everything."

Once they were on deck, Paul came out of the cabin. Kurt wondered how he had managed to fold his six foot eight frame into the small space. "Oh, everybody has arrived. Great, that means we can get going."

Joe stored the food they had brought while Gamay took the helm and Ivan, Kurt and Paul worked on deck. Soon they were out of the marina and cruised down the Potomac River at a leisurely speed. The wind was good and the weather beautiful with a bright blue sky and balmy temperatures. Kurt lost himself in the calming effect sailing always had on him. He enjoyed the wind on his face, the sun on his skin and the company of his best friends. It was a perfect day in his opinion, especially since he had Ivan by his side. 

He wasn't naive, he knew how rare peaceful afternoons spent together like this were with the kind of lives he and Ivan led. He didn't even know how to define the relationship that Ivan and he had built over the past weeks. It wasn't enemies, it wasn't friends. It wasn't lovers, it wasn't fuck-buddies. It was something he understood but had no words for, something he cherished but knew not to take for granted. It was complicated, and yet it was so simple.

"Hey guys, how about a break and some beer and snacks?" Paul shouted over the deck and when Kurt checked his watch, he was astonished to find that some three hours had passed already. Gamay steered them into one of the multiple coves that lined the river and they cast anchor. A few minutes later they were sitting together around a basket of goodies Gamay and Paul had prepared, leaning with their backs against the cabin and the bow reeling.

"Can you pass me a beer...." Joe gestured at Ivan with a a confused frown. "What do I call you, anyway? Viktor? Petrov? Ivan?"

"Whatever you want to. Just don't call me Ivan." the Russian replied, seemingly casual, but Kurt caught up on the silent threat underneath the last words. He was sure that Joe did, too.

"Kurt calls you Ivan all the time." Joe pointed out, sounding more curious than accusing. He accepted the bottle Ivan held out to him and opened it, taking a deep gulp. 

"He's done that for seventeen years." Ivan replied laconically and Kurt chuckled next to him. "It's hard to teach old dogs new tricks."

"Hey, who do you call old?" Kurt playfully hit his arm, still smirking. He was leaning with his back against the cabin, his shoulder touching Ivan's.

"Well, you two are practically the same age, so if he calls you old, he implies that he's old, too." Joe pointed out, helping himself to the multitude of canapés in the basket. "I'd call that a draw."

"He's right." Gamay smirked around her beer. "You're both old."

"Charming as ever." Kurt said, unable to hold back his laughter. It felt good that the teasing tone among the members of his team extended to Ivan. It was their way of telling Kurt that they accepted him and enjoyed the afternoon just as much as he did. Ivan had fit in effortlessly, working on deck with Paul and Joe as if they were regular sailing pals. Maybe it was Ivan's amazing talent to blend in literally everywhere to the point you didn't notice him anymore, a skill that Kurt was well aware had allowed his Russian to remain in his high position for so long. 

"How long are you staying, Viktor?" Gamay asked, comfortably leaning with her shoulder against Paul's towering frame.

"I will fly back to Russia tomorrow." 

"That'll be a triumphant return with the tsar's treasure in tow." Paul remarked, nibbling on a canapé. "This was quite a successful venture for the Russian people."

"It sure was." Ivan agreed, obviously not bothered at all that he and Kurt were sitting almost as close as Gamay and Paul. "There will be an exhibition with all the items that were found. I heard it is being planned already so that it can open as soon as possible."

"We should come and visit." Joe suggested, and Kurt had no trouble at all reading his teasing grin. "I'm sure it'll be very interesting."

"I'd love to see it." Gamay sighed wistfully. "After having seen the wreck of the _Odessa Star_ and knowing the story behind it, it feels like we have a connection to it. It would be great to see the findings properly restored to their former glory and returned to the people they belong to."

"You're a romantic." Paul said with a fond smile.

She chuckled. "When I'm not being overly realistic, I like indulging in a little romantic fantasizing."

"No harm done." Joe emptied his bottle and sat up straight. "Want to get moving again? We still have some hours of light and I feel ready to hit the wind again."

"You're bossy." Kurt gave an exaggerated sigh. Next to him, he heard Ivan give a low chuckle. 

"Come on, guys, let's get back on the river!" Joe took Kurt's hands and pulled him to his feet. 

A few minutes later, they had stored the basket back in the cabin and hoisted anchor, then they were off again. This time Paul took the helm and Gamay joined the others on deck. It was fun to work together, sometimes in comfortable silence, sometimes under bickering and teasing, sometimes just sharing stories. Kurt noticed that sometime after their short snack break, Ivan joined in, obviously comfortable enough to tell some anecdotes of his own. It made Kurt smile and he attentively listened to every word, pleased to learn something new about the reserved Russian.

During the last leg of their daytrip, already on the way back, they stopped in another cove and shared a delicious dinner. Everybody had provided something to eat and in the end they had a full three course meal complete with white wine. Later they played a round of poker with Gamay robbing them all, before she ordered Paul and Joe in the kitchen to help her clean the mess before they would return to port. Half an hour later they were under way again with Paul back on the helm.

It was late when the _Eagle_ entered the Gangplank Marina again. The sun had begun setting, but the air was still warm and the wind nothing more than a gentle breeze. Once they had berthed the sailing boat, Joe, Kurt and Ivan said their goodbyes. Joe hugged Gamay and then shook Paul's hand before hopping off the boat on the floating dock. 

"Thank you for an very pleasant day." Ivan said to Paul and Gamay, and Kurt recognised his smile as a real one.

"It was nice meeting you, Viktor." Gamay said and spontaneously pulled him into a hug. "I hope we'll see you around again soon."

Kurt grinned at Ivan's momentarily confused and surprised expression, then the Russian regained his composure and returned Gamay's hug. It was obvious that he wasn't used to sudden expressions of affection from the people around him.

"'I'm sure it won't be the last time that I come to this part of your country." Ivan replied when Gamay had let go of him, his eyes catching Kurt's in a quick glance. It lasted only the fraction of a second, but it made Kurt's skin prickle and his throat suddenly felt dry.

"Come by when you're here." Paul said and held out his hand. 

"I will." Ivan accepted it with a nod before he joined Joe on the floating deck. 

"Enjoy your days off." Kurt said to Paul and pulled Gamay into a friendly embrace. "I'll call when I have news for our next assignment." 

He pulled back and was about to turn to jump to the dock when Gamay caught his arm.

"Kurt, wait. I've got something for you." She reached into the back pocket of her shorts and pulled out a piece of paper. "I thought you should have it."

She pressed the paper in his hand and kissed him on the cheek, whispering into his ear, "He's a good man."

Kurt looked at the paper in his hand; it was a Polaroid picture. He couldn't help smiling when he realised what it showed. When he looked up, Gamay returned his soft smile. "I actually came on deck to take a picture of the cove, but somehow you got caught on film instead. I think it's a beautiful photo."

"So it is." Kurt slipped the piece of paper in his back pocket and bent down to press a kiss to Gamay's cheek. "It means a lot. Thank you."

Gamay chuckled. "I thought you would like it. Now go, your Russian is waiting for you."

True to her words, Ivan was standing on the floating dock, talking with Joe. Kurt gave Gamay a smile before he hopped off the _Eagle_ and joined them. Ivan caught his gaze, his eyes dark and intense even if the expression on his face was neutral. Kurt felt heat course through him, well aware what Ivan was thinking about. Seeing the Russian so relaxed during the day had made Kurt want to do things to him that would leave him in a a state of mindless pleasure where he would be unable to do anything but feel. 

Feeling his face heat, Kurt knew he had to think of something else, at least as long as Joe was still around. He didn't doubt that his friend had picked up on the new dimension of his and Ivan's relationship, but that didn't mean that Kurt wanted Joe to actually _witness_ its consumption. He almost couldn't hide his relief when Joe said his goodbyes and walked towards the parking lot.

"See you around!" Joe raised his hand to wave, then he turned and headed for his car. Kurt walked over to where he had parked the NUMA Jeep, knowing Ivan close behind him. It was as if his skin had turned hypersensitive, tuned on Ivan's gaze, his closeness, his _touch_. Kurt was almost overwhelmed by the urge to just push him against the side of the Jeep and kiss him, get Ivan's hands to touch him and... 

Kurt shook his head as if to clear it. Now was not the time. They still had to cross the city and get back home. One quick glance at Ivan over the top of the car assured him that he wasn't the only one fighting his urges right now. It actually made him feel better.

The drive back to the boathouse was filled with anticipatory silence. Kurt could feel the tension in the air, heavy and exciting. Arousal spread through his entire body, making him half-hard in his shorts. He had to force himself to concentrate on driving because he knew that if he so much as glanced at Ivan, he would jump him right here in the car in the middle of the Washington evening traffic. Even Sandecker wouldn't be able to get him out of the mess _that_ would stir up.

Kurt would always be infinitely grateful that Ivan didn't touch him throughout the drive, or he would have lost it. He parked in front of his house with less finesse that he normally possessed and barely waited for Ivan to get out of the car before he walked to the porch and unlocked the front door. It had just closed behind them and already Kurt had his arms wrapped around Ivan, his mouth sealing the Russian's. Ivan seemed to have thought along the same lines because his hands grabbed Kurt's hips at the same time and he was returning the passionate kiss in kind, pressing Kurt with his back against the door. 

Kurt's hands found Ivan's salt-and-pepper hair that was just long enough to get a grip on, and pulled Ivan even closer. He could get addicted to the feeling of the surprisingly soft strands between his fingers where he'd made fists to hold on. He loved how Ivan reacted to it, not resisting but leaning into his grip, giving an involuntary moan as if he had no control over it. The kiss deepened, a battle of tongues that he never wanted to end. It didn't matter who won, because there was no winner. It was about pleasure, about the tension that had grown between them ever since their first encounter, about satisfying their curiosity. 

Ivan's hands were under Kurt's polo shirt, touching his sides, wandering over his back, following his scars. Kurt felt goosebumps spread over his skin, a trail of pleasant shivers that followed the path of Ivan's fingers. They returned to the hem of his shirt and gripped it to pull it over his head, throwing it to the floor somewhere to the right. Kurt couldn't have cared less where his shirt landed, he just wanted to feel Ivan's bare skin against his, with no fabric between them. He reached for the buttons of Ivan's shirt and opened the first two, then he decided there we too many of them and he just pushed it up until it was bundled under Ivan's arms. Ivan raised them with a chuckle, allowing Kurt to strip him off the shirt without having to bother with the buttons.

Kurt smirked at him, taking a moment to study his face. Kurt's fingers had made a tousled mess of Ivan's hair, his mouth was red and swollen from their intense kisses and his slate-blue eyes were burning with desire. Kurt's gaze wandered lower, over the strong shoulders and the broad expanse of his chest to where Kurt's hands were resting on his sides just above the waistline of Ivan's pants. He could see the bulge underneath the fabric, could feel Ivan's chest rise and fall under too fast breaths. 

His eyes found Ivan's again, his smirk widening mischievously, then Kurt let the fingers of his left hand dip underneath waistline of Ivan's pants while the right took a firm hold of the hardness straining against the fabric. Ivan's eyes closed and his hips jerked at the same time as he gave a deep moan of pleasure, his hands turning into fists in Kurt's hair. The reaction left Kurt wanting more, it was just mesmerising how Ivan pressed into his hands, how he didn't bother to hide his desire for Kurt's touch, showing openly that he wanted this, wanted _him_. 

Kurt groaned and followed the pull of Ivan's hands when they steered him back to Ivan's lips for another kiss, deep and wanting, a faint preview of the pleasures to come. He let go of his grip on Ivan's erection to make short work of Ivan's belt and zipper, impatient to reach the flesh underneath. Once the clothes had pooled around his ankles, Ivan stepped out of them and Kurt's hands immediately settled on the newly exposed skin of his butt, pulling him in. Ivan's hardness pressed against his groin and Kurt slipped his thigh between Ivan's legs which resulted in Ivan rubbing himself against the rough fabric of Kurt's shorts. Their foreheads were touching, Ivan's breath came in little pants that Kurt could feel against his lips, and he stretched neck just enough so that he could lick Ivan's bottom lip.

Ivan gave a low growl, never stopping the slow thrusts of his hips that made him rub against Kurt's thigh. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

"Ditto." Kurt replied, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears. He altered his grip on Ivan's buttocks, tightening and loosening almost like a massage, always supporting his movement against his thigh. 

Without warning Ivan pulled back, his hands finding Kurt's belt, opening it quickly and deftly undoing the fly. Kurt felt fingers hook in the waistband of his shorts and underwear alike, then Ivan pulled both down without a moment of hesitation. The fresh air that touched his sweaty skin made Kurt shiver with arousal, then the hot wetness of Ivan's mouth was back on his, kissing him thoroughly and almost possessively. Ivan growled somewhere deep in his throat, then he pushed Kurt backwards until his back hit the wall next to the front door. Strong hands hooked under Kurt's thighs and suddenly he felt himself being lifted up, his feet leaving the ground. 

Kurt gasped in surprise. The wall was cool in his back, but he found he didn't care. He instinctively wrapped his legs around Ivan's waist to hold on and groaned at the sudden contact of his erection against Ivan's. He bucked his hips, intense pleasure shooting through him at the delicious friction. The hands on his butt tightened their grip, sending spikes of arousal through his entire body and making him gasp into Ivan's mouth. It didn't happen often to him that his partners had the strength to manhandle him, to lift him up and press him into the wall. It was something he hadn't experienced in decades, and it was a strangely arousing sensation that left him craving more. 

Kurt curled his left arm around Ivan's neck, holding on while leaning in to take control over their kiss, chasing Ivan's tongue into his mouth and teasing it back into his. His right hand reached down between their bodies, taking a firm hold of their combined members. He let his fist move up and down with just enough pressure to make Ivan groan and his body shudder. Kurt kept his movements slow and teasing, in sync with the rhythm his tongue was setting up, and Ivan thrust into his hand with little jerks of his hips while his hands clawed into Kurt's butt. 

It was so good, but it just wasn't enough, and Kurt found himself wanting something he hadn't thought about in ages and hadn't done in even longer. It was obvious that Ivan wasn't new to what they were doing, and for Kurt that tipped the scale in favour of being adventurous. He didn't know why, but he trusted Ivan not only with his life, he also trusted him with _this_.

"Bed." Kurt managed to press out. Words had left him and he didn't care much for them right now anyway, but he really wanted to do this on a horizontal surface and not shoved up against the wall. He trusted neither his nor Ivan's knees to keep them upright, and he didn't intend ending up on the hard floor.

Ivan let go of his lips, panting, and nodded. "Where?"

"Upstairs." Kurt replied, his forehead resting against Ivan's, his breath coming just as fast. Ivan's hold on him eased and he gently let Kurt's legs back down. It felt strange standing on his two feet again, Kurt thought with a smirk. They had to do this again at some point, and then Kurt wanted Ivan to take him pressed against a wall. But not today, not at their first go, let them get a bit of practise first. 

Ivan's hands wandered all over Kurt's body to finally settle on his hips, then he turned them around and began walking Kurt backwards. Without giving it any thought, Kurt had bent forwards and caught Ivan's mouth with his. He nipped on Ivan's bottom lip, maybe a tad harder than he would have done with a woman, knowing that Ivan could take it and actually liked it. True to his assumption, Ivan growled and returned the attention in kind. They were more stumbling than walking through the room in the general direction of the turret and its staircase, but Kurt had better things to do than pay attention to their path. He was busy mapping Ivan's body with his hands, trying to learn his shape and feel by touch, memorising every scar.

Then Kurt's legs connected with something, stopping their rather aimless wandering around the den-study. He reached backwards to steady himself and his hands touched the smooth wooden surface of his colonial desk. He suddenly had a brilliant idea and blindly swept his hands over the desk, making pens and papers fall to the floor, then he sat down on the cool wood, pulling Ivan in until he stood between his spread legs. 

Kurt slowly, teasingly lay back on the wooden desk, his eyes never leaving Ivan's. He pointedly wrapped his legs around Ivan's waist and pulled him in until his rock-hard erection settles firmly behind Kurt's balls. He raised and eyebrow in silent challenge and Ivan stared at him with hungry eyes, licking his lips in a subconscious show of anticipation. Oh yes, Ivan wanted this as much as he did.

Ivan leaned forward, his hands settled on Kurt's arms, teasingly caressed their way down his chest and ran over his abs to his legs, leaving a trail of heat on his skin. Ivan slowly, pointedly, sank down on his knees, eyes never leaving Kurt's, and Kurt strained his neck to see what he was doing. Ivan's head disappeared almost entirely between Kurt's legs and he felt Ivan's hands on his butt, spreading the cheeks apart, then there was the hot wetness of Ivan's tongue touching his hole. Kurt groaned and his head fell back in stunned pleasure. He hadn't expected Ivan to do that, hadn't thought he would get on his knees for him, but it was exactly what Kurt wanted, what he'd craved. 

He spread his legs even further, his whole perception of the world narrowed down to Ivan's touch, his tongue, his hot breath on Kurt's suddenly overly sensitive skin. It was the most delicious sensation and he indulged in it shamelessly, allowing his groans to be heard, his shivers to be felt. Ivan showed great skill in what he was doing, his tongue wicked and teasing, reducing Kurt to a mindless bundle of pleasure. He pressed back into the strong wet tongue entering him, preparing him, and Ivan seemed to thrive on Kurt's reactions. He didn't stop in his efforts until he had Kurt writhing underneath him, eyes closed and lips bitten red, legs quivering from the effort to hold still.

"More!" Kurt's voice was rough and dark with desire. He was certain that Ivan was trying to turn him into a mindless mess, and it was working very well so far.

"Supplies?" The question was more a growl than an actual word, and it sent shivers of arousal down Kurt's spine.

"Right bottom drawer." Kurt mumbled between to groans, not caring how wanton he sounded. He saw Ivan reach down and come up with a small bottle, a wrapped condom and a highly amused expression on his face.

"Do I want to know why you keep lube and condoms in your desk?" He asked with a chuckle while uncapping the bottle.

"Probably not." Kurt grinned. "But you have to admit, it's convenient."

Ivan laughed, low and dark, a sound that went straight into Kurt's erection and made goosebumps spread all over his body. God how sexy that sound was! Before he could say anything along these lines, he felt the cool lube on his skin and a finger touching his entrance. 

"It's been a while." Kurt felt compelled to point out, knowing that without proper preparation he wouldn't have much fun. Ivan acknowledged his words with a nod and a little smile that Kurt was tempted to call tender, a word he had never thought he'd associate with his Russian. 

His thoughts got fuzzy when Ivan's right hand wrapped around his erection and moved just right, keeping Kurt's focus on other parts of his body. He didn't even realise the first finger entering him, lost in the pressure on his leaking hardness. The second finger hit the radar with a very slight burn, barely noticeable due to the great work Ivan had already done with his tongue and fingers. A moment later Ivan had Kurt writhing with lust on the desk, attacking his prostate with perfectly aimed thrusts while slowly scissoring his fingers to loosen the muscle ring of Kurt's hole.

Three fingers and Kurt was as ready as he would ever get, wondering why he had been worried in the first place. Ivan was a perfectionist, of course he would do a fantastic job and get Kurt to heights he had long since forgotten. It felt so incredibly good to hand over control to somebody he trusted, to allow himself to just enjoy without having to think. There weren't many people with whom he would do that, and Ivan was on top of that list right now.

"I'm ready." Kurt panted, so hard he felt close to exploding. He opened his eyes to see Ivan reach for the condom, ripping the package open and rolling the condom on himself before applying some more lube. Ivan took hold of Kurt's legs and placed them on his shoulders, then he positioned himself and Kurt felt his thick erection breach the barrier of the muscle ring of his entrance. It was uncomfortable for a moment, but Ivan had stopped immediately, remaining entirely still, until Kurt let out a deep breath and consciously relaxed his muscles. Only then did Ivan continue, proceeding slowly and with almost touching carefulness, until he was entirely sheathed inside him.

Kurt was panting with exertion, his hands gripping Ivan's arms where he was bracing himself on the desk, bent over Kurt. He was breathing equally hard, his eyes hooded and his skin slick with sweat. Ivan's gaze was focussed on Kurt when he began moving, pulling out almost entirely before pushing back in in one hard thrust, the angle just perfect.

It might have been long, but Kurt hadn't forgotten the feeling. It filled him with a pleasure so intense that he could barely breath. He threw his head back, his mouth opened in a hoarse groan and his back arched, trying to get Ivan to hit that spot again. Oh yes, that was _it_ , that was what he wanted. He met each thrust half-way, intent on increasing the contact, the friction, the sensation. His hand reached down to where his erection was almost painfully hard, leaking precum, but Ivan batted his hand away and grabbed his hardness, jerking him in a rhythm matching his thrusts. Kurt felt his eyes roll back in his head, the sensations almost too intense to take.

He bit his bottom lip, trying not to shout, but he couldn't keep from moaning, "Yeah, Vanya..."

A palpable shudder went through Ivan's body at those words. Kurt's mind had left the earthly plains and lived only in the sensation of the moment, but he wasn't so far gone that he didn't notice the effect his words had on Ivan. It made him want to do it again, so he threw his head back at the next bout of pleasure and shouted, "Vanya!"

There was another shudder, harder than the last, accompanied by a loud and uncontrolled groan. Ivan's thrusts turned frantic, his hand on Kurt's erection moving faster and his grip tightening just right. The next time he hit Kurt's prostate, Kurt's back arched and his mouth opened in a groan or a shout or a silent scream, he couldn't tell. He felt himself being swept away by a wave of sensation and pleasure that was so intense that the world went white. There was heat inside him, pulsing and throbbing, and he knew Ivan had followed him over the edge. Only a moment later, he felt Ivan's head coming to rest on Kurt's chest, his breath fast and irregular, a ghostly warm touch on his skin.

Kurt grinned, eyes still closed, his hand buried in Ivan's tousled hair, carding through the soft strands. He felt exhausted but great, sore but satisfied, and he didn't plan on moving anytime soon even though they hadn't even made it to the bed.

Comfort really _was_ totally overrated. 

 

****

***

Ivan woke to the rays of the sun dancing over his face. He lay still for a moment, trying to remember where he was. He stared at the ceiling which was a steep wooden construction that had to belong to a roof truss. He glanced around the room, finding it to be roughly circular in shape with large windows to three sides that were letting in bright sunlight. A turret.

Against his side, he felt the warmth of another body. His own hand was resting on the smooth skin over a hipbone and he felt a strong leg thrown over his. When Ivan turned his head, he saw steel-grey hair tugged under his chin, along with the husky body of Kurt draped halfway across him.

Ivan smiled. The memories came back like the powerful flow of a river, but they were warm and pleasant, passionate and deep. He let them wash over him, enjoying every second of it. His hand slowly moved over Kurt's bare hip, the caress gentle and almost lazy. Kurt began to shift under his touch, leaning into it.

"Morning sleepyhead." Kurt's low voice mumbled from somewhere close to Ivan's shoulder. "What time it is?"

Ivan stretched languorously and turned his head to have a look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. He was surprised to see that it was half past nine, and he squinted and looked again just to make sure he hadn't misread. He couldn't remember having slept that long in decades. 

"Half past nine." Ivan replied, surprised at how rough his voice sounded. Then he remembered the time he had spent groaning and shouting under Kurt's most pleasant torture once they had made it to his bed. After a few hours of sleep, he had woken to Kurt giving him a fantastic blow job that had left him spent and mellow. But Kurt hadn't stopped there, he had continued to kiss and caress him until he had felt himself get hard again, then Kurt had slowly and thoroughly pounded him into the mattress until he had lost his ability to speak. With this in mind, Ivan didn't wonder anymore why he sounded that raspy.

"Half past nine? Can't be." Kurt murmured back. "I never sleep that long."

"Neither do I." Ivan reassured him, the teasing smile obvious in his tone. "But today, we obviously did."

"Must have been a late night." Kurt chuckled and Ivan felt soft bites trail up the side of his neck.

Ivan turned his head to the side, baring more of his throat to Kurt's teeth. "I distinctly remember that is was _very_ late."

"Yeah, I seem to remember that, too." Kurt murmured against Ivan's skin, slowly shifting his body so that he was stretched out on top of Ivan, his elbows resting to each side of his head to take some of his weight. Ivan's hands immediately came up to caress his sides and his back as if they had a mind of their own. 

Kurt just looked at him for a long moment, eyes serious and pensive, before he eased down and rested his head on Ivan's shoulder, his nose buried against his neck. They stayed like this for a long time, comfortable in the silence of the morning, lost in their respective thoughts.

"What are we doing here?" Kurt asked quietly after a while, his breath ghosting over Ivan's skin.

"I can honestly admit that I have no idea." Ivan replied, his fingertips on Kurt's back drawing a mindless pattern. 

"Yeah, me neither." 

Ivan was quiet for a moment, wondering if he dared to say what was on his mind. Then he decided to be bold and see how Kurt would react. "I just know that whatever this is, I'd like to repeat it."

He felt Kurt smile against his skin. "Yeah, we should definitely do that."

A comfortable silence stretched between them. Kurt's fingers played with his hair, his breath warm against the skin of Ivan's neck. Ivan let his hands roam over all the bare skin he could reach, slowly and almost exploratory, as if he hadn't already catalogued every bit of Kurt's body last night. It felt peaceful and comfortable lying there in the warmth of the morning sun, just being close to Kurt's strong frame with no second thoughts, no worries, no plans. Just being, no thinking. 

Living in the moment. 

Ivan couldn't remember ever having done that before. It had always seemed to be a total waste of time to stay in bed after waking, and he had always risen before his mistresses or one-night-stands had woken. But right now, here with Kurt, he couldn't imagine wanting anything else but to lie in bed with him and feel Kurt's body touch him from head to toe.

Ivan couldn't say how much time had passed when Kurt propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Ivan for a long moment. "Coffee?"

Ivan nodded, glad that Kurt didn't try to put this strange thing between them into words. He wasn't good with feelings, and he didn't want to discuss this... _relationship_. Talking about it would mean giving it a name, defining it, and that was dangerous in a way he wasn't willing to accept yet. 

"As comfortable as this is, I fear we will have to get up to get coffee, though." Kurt remarked with a smirk before he bent down to nibble on Ivan's bottom lip. "Which means that you will have to let go of me, or I can't get up."

"Pity." Ivan loosened his hold on Kurt's back, slowly letting his hands trail down his sides until they came to rest on the bed next to him. 

"I know." Kurt placed a gentle kiss on Ivan's lips before pushing himself up. "Come on, Ivan, coffee is waiting."

Kurt stretched, then he went downstairs and disappeared in the bathroom. Ivan sat up in the bed, taking a moment to compose himself, then he followed Kurt downstairs and headed for the kitchen. On the way he picked up his discarded boxer-briefs and put them on, figuring that for the sake of Kurt's neighbours, he should wear at least something. When Kurt entered the room, he was wearing nothing but black boxer shorts, his hair still tousled from Ivan's hands and a dark bruise above his collarbone where Ivan had bit him the day before. He looked gorgeous, and Ivan was sure that he had no idea how tempting he was.

Kurt passed Ivan on his way to the coffee machine, moving in and pressing a little kiss to his shoulder as if he had done it a thousand times. It was a totally subconscious gesture, and that was what made Ivan freeze on the spot.

"Want some breakfast?" Kurt asked over his shoulder, preparing the coffee machine for brewing a fresh pot of his favourite Jamaican coffee.

Ivan overcame his moment of shock and stepped up behind Kurt, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on Kurt's shoulder. It was a kind of intimate gesture he would normally never have allowed, but here and now, in the comfort of Kurt's home, it felt right. Ivan decided not to think about it and just go with the flow. "What do you have to offer?"

"Apart from myself?" Kurt turned his head back and grinned at Ivan, never trying to break the embrace. 

"Yeah, I was talking in terms of food." Ivan chuckled. " _Real_ food. The kind that you eat." 

"Hmmm." Kurt pretended to think about that. "How about cereal with yoghurt and fresh fruit, maybe a toast with bacon?"

"Sound great." Ivan only let go of Kurt when both of them started moving around the kitchen in food preparation. Ten minutes later they were sitting on the deck with Gorky and Sasha to their feet, enjoying a healthy breakfast. The sky was of a clear blue and the sun was shining, drawing patterns on the water of the Potomac, adding to the peaceful atmosphere. There was no need for words, and Ivan profoundly enjoyed the comfortable silence between them. 

They were about to finish eating when a small boat came past, reminding Ivan that his time here was limited. He would return to Russia today, and he couldn't stay much longer. It was as if Kurt had picked up on his thoughts, because he set his spoon aside and looked at him. "When does your plane leave?"

Ivan threw a quick glance at the clock mounted above the kitchen door that he could see from the deck. "In about three hours. I still need to return the powerboat and change, though, so I have about half an hour before I need to leave."

"You fly with a commercial airline?"

Ivan chuckled. "Call it flying 'undercover'."

"I would have thought you travelled with a private or military jet." Kurt replied, sounding astonished, then he smirked. "I should have known better. After all, you are a man of the shadows."

Ivan inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I prefer to stay off the radar."

There was just enough time for a quick shower, and for a split second Ivan almost regretted that he had to wash away the reminders of their night together. He chided himself for such sentimental thinking, he didn't need any reminders of last night. It was when he stood before the mirror to shave that he noticed a bite mark high on his right shoulder, the exact same spot Kurt kissed when he had passed him this morning in the kitchen. Ivan stared at it for a moment, fingers coming up to touch it, then he smirked. Maybe he didn't mind having a reminder after all.

When he came out of the bathroom, dressed in yesterday's clothes, Kurt was waiting for him on deck. He had donned shorts and a t-shirt, sitting at the breakfast table, the wolfhounds sitting next to him. He was scratching Gorky behind the ears while petting Sasha with his other hand. It was a beautiful picture, Ivan mused, one he wouldn't forget. 

As soon as Sasha noticed him, she came over with her tail wagging and nudged her cold nose in his hand. Ivan smiled and caressed her behind the ears for a moment. When he looked up, he found Kurt standing next to him, watching him with a fond smile.

"Come on, girl, let him go." Kurt said to Sasha and she dutifully stepped aside.

For an awkward second, Ivan didn't know how to say goodbye, then he decided for the respectful approach and held out his hand. Kurt ignored it and simply wrapped his arms around Ivan in a firm embrace. "We're beyond that." 

Ivan felt his arms come up and wrap around Kurt's strong body, and he allowed himself to bury his nose against the side of his neck, taking a deep breath and memorising the scent that was simply Kurt.

"Until we meet again, Kurt." Ivan murmured against the skin under his lips. They both knew that there was no way of telling when their paths would cross again.

Without another word, Ivan let go and stepped into the powerboat and Kurt cast the lines. Ivan accelerated once he was clear of the boathouse, speeding down the river. Just before he turned the bend he glanced back over his shoulder. He could make out Kurt's husky form against the white of the house, still looking at him. It made a shiver run down his back. 

Dressed in one of his ubiquitous grey suits, Ivan arrived at the airport with an hour to spare. Check-in and security took half of that time, then Ivan strolled down the departure hall to his gate. He had always preferred to travel by commercial means. It was a great way to stay off the radar and to prevent people from noticing his real influence and power. Not to mention that it was always a study in people to sit in an airport and just observe, and Ivan enjoyed studying people without them noticing it. Kurt had been right, he would always be a man of the shadows.

When his flight was called, Ivan took out his passport which identified him as 'Viktor Petrov' to put it in his pocket for easier access. He didn't open it, but there was the corner of a piece of paper sticking out that made him suspicious. He frowned and reached for the paper, pulling it out to have a look at it, and froze.

Ivan just stared at the Polaroid picture, unable to turn away. He hadn't allowed himself to be photographed in decades, yet in his hand he held the proof that one time, it had happened. He hadn't even realised it. 

Ivan was mesmerised by the moment that had been caught in the picture. It was obvious that neither he nor Kurt had been aware of the camera. He could see himself leaning against a reeling of the turquoise colour that was typical for NUMA ships. Behind him was Kurt, sitting on the reeling, his feet hooked casually under the metal bar to keep his balance. Ivan was standing between his spread legs, his left hand resting on Kurt's bare knee while his right held almost possessively onto the arms that Kurt had wrapped around Ivan's shoulders. The whole scene spoke of an easy intimacy and sincere affection that Ivan had never thought himself capable of. 

But what fascinated him the most were their faces. The wind was tousling their hair, Kurt's steel grey a sharp contrast to Ivan's salt-and-pepper colour. Kurt was turned towards him, his eyes closed, his lips touching Ivan's cheek in a lingering kiss right where the scar criss-crossed his skin. Ivan was obviously leaning into the touch, a smile on his lips that was incredibly intimate in its silent contentment. 

Ivan just stared. He had never known they were this obvious. In fact, he had never realised how deep their connection ran until he'd seen this picture. It was like a slap in the face to see himself like that, so open and affectionate and... _happy_.

Gamay Trout must have taken the picture. Ivan remembered her being the only one to come on deck when he and Kurt had sat together at the bow of the _Eagle_. She had given them a warm smile and a conspiratorial wink before she'd told them she would keep Joe and Paul in the cabin a little longer. Now that he thought about it, yes, she had been carrying a Polaroid camera. 

Ivan looked at the photo again, still caught in the feelings it conveyed. Kurt must have slipped the picture in his passport sometime this morning, knowing he'd find it on his way back to Russia. Ivan passed his finger over the smooth surface in a gesture that was almost a caress, then he turned the photo around. There was one line written on the back in Kurt's slightly messy handwriting that was so familiar to Ivan. 

_'Now you intimately know the enemy, Vanya.'_ Behind the words he'd drawn a smiley.

Ivan couldn't help laughing. It was such a Kurt thing to do. With a smirk still lingering on his lips, Ivan turned the paper again to have another look at the photo. He just couldn't seem to stop looking at it. He should destroy it, he knew that. It was evidence, it was dangerous, not only to him but also to Kurt. He should burn it, make sure nobody could ever see this scene of caring and affection. It made him vulnerable, it showed potential enemies his biggest weakness. 

Kurt.

Ivan glanced at the photo again, at Kurt's gentle kiss and his own content face. He smiled, then he neatly folded the picture in half and slipped it in his pocket. He would find a safe place for it.

It was the only photo of him that he would allow to exist.

 

*** The End


End file.
